Necklace of Songs
by Lalaith Quetzalli
Summary: -Sidestory-Companion to Nexus.- The elven princess and the asgardian prince who chose love over duty and blood and fate. Music bound them both, and their union gave birth to light. Their story became legend and crossed all Realms. And a Thousand Years later their love still shines just as bright, with the light of every star in the sky. (Past Lives and Reincarnation)
1. Solo

I take great liberties creating the history of Alfheim, as well as the backstory of Loki's ancestors and the whole Ice Wars... sorry, but I know nowhere near enough of the comics to use that, and this fit with what I was already doing. I hope you'll like it anyway.

For those who wanted Loki to sing. Here you have it!

This story will be having more songs per chapter than any before (there is a reason this is called Necklace of Songs... aside from a certain poem); the ones used in this chapter are:

- Turn the Sky by Angelzoom, feat. Apocalyptica.

- In her Eyes by Josh Groban.

- Everytime by Britney Spears (with a slight word change to fit with the times and such).

- Someone's watching over me by Hilary Duff.

That's it for now. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><span>Necklace of Songs<span>

(Sidestory to _Nexus_)

_By: Lalaith Quetzalli _

_The elven princess and the asgardian prince who chose love over duty and blood and fate. Music bound them both, and their union gave birth to light. Their story became legend and crossed all Realms. And a Thousand Years later their love still shines just as bright, with the light of every star in the sky. _

**Solo**

Alfheim was an old realm, some even believed it to be older than any other, including Asgard itself. And as could only be expected of an old, well-respected, powerful world, it was filled with history, culture and, most importantly, traditions. Like the Mother Queen and her court.

It all began in an ancient time mostly remembered as the Dark Days, a time Asgard has very little recollection of, and only when it comes to the war of King Bor (Odin's father) against the Dark Elves and the power of the Aether. But a lot more happened back then, many worlds were shaped by events happening during that time; including Alfheim.

It was during that time that Alfheim became a Queendom, and all clans turned matriarchal. It was consequence of necessity; with so many men having gone to war, so few of them to return. It was necessary for the women to assume command, and once it happened, it just stay that way. From the very start it had been proven that female elves had a stronger connection to the earth, the Mother, than males did. But it was until the Dark Days that the sister of the Last King, Princess Adlanniel took the throne, she would be the first in a long line of Queens.

It was Queen Adlanniel who stated, in her speech after being crowned, that to be a good Queen, she had to see Alfheim as her only match and every Ljósálfar as her children. It was how the title Mother Queen, came to be. It was also how it came to be declared that a Queen was never to be married or have any family, for all her devotion was to be for her realm and her people.

Being the time that it was, there were many orphaned girls around Alfheim. And, as if by some divine inspiration, the head of each tribe decided to send one of those girls, the most gracious, most talented, to serve the Queen. Most would have expected those girls to become handmaidens to Her Majesty and nothing more... instead they became princesses. A sisterhood that acted both as handmaidens, and royal advisers. Also, when the moment came it was one of them, Lady Meldamiriel, Daughter of the Jewel Forest, to whom Queen Adlanniel passed the crown.

And so, every generation, each tribe sent its most gifted girl to become part of the Queen's court; each of them knowing that, one day, one would be the next Mother Queen. It wasn't only a great honor, but also responsibility of the highest order, and all the girls grew up knowing that. With the years and the generations some of the details in that tradition would evolve, as the tribes went from sending orphaned girls to the heiress of their most powerful clan. The decision could be challenged, if someone believed another girl to be a better option, but it hardly ever was; few girls, once truly conscious of what would be expected of them, truly wanted to be princess, and less even Mother Queen.

And while that happened with the girls, a new generation of boys was being formed as well. In Alfheim, the males had always been the warriors, that part didn't change. What did was the creation of the Order of Protectors. Which existed with the express mission of protecting the Sisterhood of Princesses, and the Mother Queen above all else. The leader of the Order, the Lord Protector, was the personal bodyguard of the Mother Queen, and another who was forbidden from every marrying and having a family of his own, as all his attention and strength was to be for the Queen and no one else.

That was Alfheim, its history and its traditions when it came to royals and their duties. However, none of those were the best known, or the most popular by far. No, Alfheim's most beloved tradition, the one that marked its people, was in its music. Long had it been believed by the Ljósálfar, that music was a gift the Creator had given them, a way to communicate, to express themselves, and most importantly, to love. Music was a way for young elves to show themselves, what they were inside; and it was believed that it took the right song for a man to gain his lady's affections. Music served well to show everything even the shiest she-elf could have never put into words under normal circumstances.

Another thing was that the Ljósálfar were firm believers of True Love. While there were arranged marriages, like in any other society, any such union could be trumped by a match. It was said that nothing could be more powerful than a match made by the stars. Trying to break or block a match was the worst crime possible, for it was said that one such individual, if they were to lose their match, darkness would settle in their souls, a void form in their hearts and madness would whisper into their ears until their minds were lost. It was double murder for, in the end, one member of the pair could never exist without the other.

Incredible stories had been told throughout the years about such unions. About individuals who would survive terrible tragedies, surpass insurmountable odds, carried on by the love and faith of their other half. Yet their were also stories about people dying hours after their beloved, just dropping with no wound and no pain, simply unable to survive without their love; or even just collapsing, regardless of what they may have been doing, life leaving them in an instant, at the exact second their match had fallen, wherever they might be.

And all those traditions, in one way or another, came to affect one life, that of Lalaith, Daughter of the Jewel Forest, princess of Alfheim and... much more.

**xXx**

Millennia after the Dark Days came another Inter-dimensional War. It began when Laufey, King of Jotunheim, grew arrogant and greedy, and wished for a kingdom greater then his own realm. For many, many years, all of Jotunheim's history in fact, they'd been a savage land. Clans and Tribes fighting against each other to survive, only the strongest did. And then came Loptr, the only son of a minor Clan. Most would have never expected him to survive past his first year, but he did. He grew strong, and vicious. In the course of a thousand years he managed to take control first of his clan, then his tribe, and little by little he took over more and more, until all of Jotunheim was under his rule. He became Jotunheim's first King.

Loptr had a number of children, most of them sons, with several mates. The youngest of his sons was Laufey. For the place he'd been born in, he got nothing from being prince, he had no special talents either. But he had one thing: he was greedy. Laufey hated his father, and his brothers, especially the brother that preceeded him in age; he was a runt, so small compared to nearly all of their race, yet he was the one King Loptr favored most, for his tactical mind and his gift with ice. There were rumors that Loptr would name him King, instead of his oldest.

However, the night before Loptr would have named his successor, everything changed. In the middle of the night almost every member of the household was viciously murdered. King Loptr, his five oldest sons, their mates and children. The only survivors of the massacre were Laufey and his only sister Farbauti...

Most had no doubts who was responsible for the deaths, but there was little that could be done.

There were those who tried to rebel when Laufey took the throne, stating he was the only rightful heir left... but he executed viciously each and every one of them, as well as their families, to make sure no one would come after him in vengeance. So in the end, nothing could be done, Laufey became King, and he took Farbauti as his first mate, stating that it needed to be done, for the bloodline to remain 'pure'.

Farbauti bore Laufey two sons. The oldest was Byleistr, he was harsh and vicious like his father, the perfect heir, in Laufey's mind; the second was Helblindi, level-headed, strong but kind, like Farbauti whenever Laufey wasn't pushing her down.

What few knew was that Laufey had a lover, a sorceress from another world, one unknown. She bore him a son. Laufey believed that a child from her would be powerful, and that in turn would give him the power to achieve what he'd always wanted: control over more than just Jotunheim.

It was a plan he'd set in motion years before. Waging war against nearby realms, though he wasn't being too successful, until his second son accidentally found an odd cave-system, one that did not lead to a different part of their realm, but to a different one, one filled with small, fleshy, fragile things. A world so different from Jotunheim, with an actual sun, a world Laufey intended to add to his new empire...

At least that was the plan, until Asgard interfered. The war had gotten worse then, though Laufey wasn't about to give up. He was too greedy, and too arrogant for that. The child with the foreigner spell-caster was part of his plan. The lady wouldn't fight for him, for his war, but she would fight for the world her son belonged to. And that would give him the power he needed to crush the Aesir and taken over the other realm, and from there, all the others.

What he never counted on, was on that son being so small... a runt. Like the brother he'd so hated. A runt... a weakling. Laufey was so furious he killed the sorceress were she laid, weakened by the hard birth and distracted by the newborn. Then he left the baby were it laid, in the middle of the temple where children were always born, before picking up the Casket of Ancient Winters and rejoining the fight. He couldn't have known that, later on that same day, after finally losing the war against Asgard, Odin Allfather would happen to walk past the temple, and hear the baby cry. Even drenched in the blood of his enemies, the King found compassion in his heart, for the young and the elders, those who couldn't fight or had surrendered, and stopped pursuing them; but most of all, he found it for the abandoned newborn, whom he took in his arms tenderly.

The boy's magic reacted automatically at the Aesir's touch, changing its cobalt blue skin with the tribal-like markings into pale-alabaster, its black on red eyes into bright emerald ones. Odin Allfather couldn't help but think that the child must be prodigious at magic, to be able to do such a thing when he was obviously not even a day old, and decided to take the boy with him.

Odin had a son, Thor, still an infant. He also knew that the pregnancy had been hard on his wife: Queen Frigg, it was unlikely she would ever have another child, and Odin simply loved her too much to take a second wife, or a mistress. He hadn't really planned on adopting the baby Jotunn himself when he took it, but the moment he presented the child to his wife, and she took him in her arms, cooing at him, holding him so tenderly, he couldn't help but feel it was right. He didn't even need to say a word, the moment his wife's eyes met his, they were both clearly thinking the same. So Lady Frigg offered the baby her breast, and the baby became their son.

They named him Loki, because the Queen said he would one day break the chain of pain and destruction created by Laufey, and he would one day be the end of something... though even the Queen with all her gift of prophecy knew not what.

And so Asgard gained a second prince, Odin and Frigg a second son and crown prince Thor a little brother. And life continued.

**xXx**

When the Ice Wars began (the name that was given to the wars that began across all the realms to stop Laufey and his army from taking control), Alfheim wanted nothing to do with the conflict. They had already lost so much in another inter-dimensional war, the last thing they wanted was a repeat of it. However, that did not save them in the end.

Laufey wasn't truly interested in Alfheim, the realm was, for the most part, too warm for his tastes. Even if there were a few cold areas, it wasn't enough. Still, he wanted to take it, for the things he could demand of them. He thought that the elves not wanting to fight meant that they did not know how, that was until the forces he sent were decimated. And it was that Jotunn had not only a disadvantage when it came to the environment, but they'd never before had to deal with weapons like the arrows, which elves were famous for.

Still, and even though in the end Laufey decided to cut his loses, he wasn't about to let the elves be truly victorious. So he sent a team of runts (whom he only allowed because of their ability as spies and assassins), straight to the silver tree, the one that had been shaped through elven magic and songs into the Royal Palace of Alfheim.

That night the Mother Queen was assassinated in her sleep, as was every single princess present, the servants and every off-age member of the Order of Protectors who'd been on duty. It was a blow of which Alfheim was never expected to recover... until she stepped forward.

Lalaith, Lamirima's daughter, youngest child of the Lord of Jewel Forest, the farthest province from the Royal Palace. It was the coolest sector in all of Alfheim. Lalaith was the sister of Merilwen, one of the most favored princesses in the sisterhood (though not the favorite to be the next Mother Queen); she was the only sister. It was so rare for elves to have more than one child, and even when they did, they usually waited for years. It was part of why they simply weren't ready to lose all the court at the same time. Especially with no more girls ready and willing to replace the ones that had been lost.

In recent years, being a royal had become more a duty than an honor or a pleasure. More girls wanted families, as well as other freedoms they would have to give up, were they to become part of the Sisterhood. Which was one of the reasons why it was so surprising when Lalaith stepped forward. The other? She was only five years old.

More than one person though it was crazy, how could a little girl possibly make such a choice? Princess were usually spotted between the ages of ten and twelve, and finally sent to join the rest of their generation between the ages of fifteen and seventeen. Never had a five year old become a princess (no one could be Queen before their twenty-fifth birthday.

In the end they Alfheim no longer knew how to exist without a sisterhood, even if it was there more in name than in reality. So, during the MidSummer festival (which was more a memorial that year), Lalaith Mirloth (given that name for being a child of Jewel Forest), became princess of Alfheim, as well as potential Mother Queen, under the watchful eyes of Lord Protector Erynion (the oldest of the remaining Order, as he'd been shy of his fifteenth birthday, and therefore not on duty when the attack took place) and Lord Frey, a Vanir chosen by King Odin of Asgard to oversee Alfheim and aid them in any way possible (he had no actual authority, was just there to watch, report and help where possible).

**xXx**

Almost two decades later Lord Erynion was standing, half hidden behind a huge white-ash tree, the oldest trees in the universe (and the most common in Alfheim), watching his princess, in her favorite long, ruffly, sleeveless, pale lilac dress, sitting on her knees on the grass surrounded by her roses. It was the princess's meadow, almost like her personal garden (except it wasn't in the palace, not even in the city itself but just past its limits), limited on one side by a cliff, on two others by two creeks coming together; on the final side was the huge ash tree and from it enough leaves and vines grew as to create a virtual wall that could only be bypassed with very specific movies, almost like a labyrinth, one only two people could get through...

At first Erynion hadn't liked it when his princess would go there. She was Alfheim's hope, their only princess left, their future Mother Queen... if she passed the necessary tests in the course of the following year (though there was no reason to believe she wouldn't). He had no idea what their realm would do if they were to lose her. If a tragedy like that were to take place...

And yet, he'd seen her one day, it'd been a bad season. A plague of some sort had ravaged the crops on the south, and people were arriving, looking for help, for food, for salvation. Anyone with eyes could see how much it pained the young princess (she'd been fifteen at the time) to see her people suffering and hardly be able to do anything.

Something was done in the end, with the help of Lord Frey agreements of trade had been made with Vanaheim and Asgard, exchanging some of Alfheim's most valuable healing plants (which only grew in Alfheim) for the food needed to help the grieving elves survive, as well as new seeds, which would allow them to grow new crops, resistant to the plague. There hadn't been such relations with other realms in thousands of years; the Queens of the past constantly stating that the Earth would always provide... Princess Lalaith hadn't been willing to take a chance.

There were those who opposed the decision of course, but in the end it was done. In the end the realm was too used to the kind of ruling a Queen did; and while Lalaith was technically still a princess, and would be for a few more years yet, she'd been making decisions for the good of her people on a scale reserved only for the queen for almost as long as she'd been in the palace. At first she'd accepted the council of others, like her Lord Protector, some spell-weavers and Elders. But not that day, that was the day she stood her ground and made a decision all on her own for the first time. Many elves probably would have died if she hadn't. It was also that day that the most cynic finally began believing that one day Alfheim would go back to its former glory. Erynion himself included.

And yet, what he was focusing most in that moment, was the memory of how sad the tragedy had made his princess that day, how no one but he could see it, for other than him there were few who ever truly looked at her as anything but the future-Mother-Queen.

He'd seen her that day, the moment court was finished and she was free, take off her heavy gown, kick off her fancy slippers, pull her long hair down from the elaborate, tight hairdo to let the curls fall down her shoulders, before putting on a simple dress (the kind the wood-elves, who lived on trees in the middle of the forest rather than actual cities, wore), and with her feet bare. She'd slipped out of the palace, jumping straight out of the window and beginning to move through the branches of nearby trees, indeed like a wood-elf herself.

It'd taken a while, but he'd eventually managed to track her down, as far as the 'green wall' past the border. He'd sat there, waiting, until she eventually came out. They had a row that day, for he hated that she'd slipped away like that, and she hated that he followed her, like she couldn't take care of herself, or worse, as if she were some kind of criminal. Erynion had to admit she was right, hard as it might be for him to admit it. Alfheim was so afraid of losing its princess, its hope, that at times they treated her no better than a glass figurine, or a prisoner... Also, the elven warrior couldn't deny it'd done good for his princess to get away, it was there in her expression, and in her eyes, in the way they were shining again.

So a deal was made, Lalaith would get to keep her place a secret from all but Erynion himself, go there whenever she needed to have time for herself, she didn't even have to tell Erynion. But he needed to know how to get in there, so if she ever went missing, or something happened, he could reach her (and if she happened not to be there, he would know something had truly happened to her). She agreed.

It'd taken a while, but eventually Erynion heard her sing, it was something she never did in public, too embarrassed, she said; though Erynion did not understand what of, hers was the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard, of that he was sure. Yet she'd never sung for anyone other than him (and even that was arguable, since most of the time she didn't know he was there to hear her). Not even in the Mid-Summer festivals, where so many young elves went to sing, in hopes of being able to find their match...

"What would the point be of doing that, my lord?" She asked him once, serene as ever. "My match is the earth, Alfheim itself, and that's all I shall ever need."

Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if she knew that for sure (some elves were born with the Sight, though it was rare) or just something she wanted to convince herself of, after all, she was to be Mother Queen, and as such she would never be able to marry or have a family of her own.

In recent years the princess had taken to slipping to her sanctuary more and more often, and not even Erynion knew why. Things on Alfheim were going wonderful. The realm had finally fully recovered from the Ice Wars, as well as the plagues. Trade was going well with Vanaheim and Asgard, and there were talks of adding Nidavellir to the treaty. Everything was wonderful... so why then was their princess so out-of-sorts so often?

He had no idea, which was why he decided to go look for her, ask her once and for all, except before he could say a word he was distracted by her beautiful singing voice:

"If I was a bird in your hand  
>Longing for a new Fairyland<br>You've opened up my door  
>You've set me free<br>Always would return to your hand."

"If I was a pearl on the ground  
>Only deep blue sea all around<br>But you would find my light  
>You'll rescue me one day<br>When all my calls will resound."

"But if I was a flash in your daydream  
>One day you'll see my sign on your way."<p>

"I turn the sky to dive into your dreams  
>I turn the sky to fall into your dreams<br>A million times for you  
>I hope, I beg, I pray for you...<br>A million times for you  
>I hope, I beg, I pray for you..."<p>

"If I was a tear on your face  
>Fallen like a star lost in space<br>I crossed your galaxy a hundred times  
>To fall asleep inside your embrace."<p>

"But if I was a flash in your daydream  
>One day you'll see my sign<br>I will wait, I wait..."

"I turn the sky to dive into your dreams  
>I turn the sky to fall into your dreams<br>A million times for you  
>I hope, I beg, I pray for you..."<p>

"I turn the sky to dive into your dreams  
>I turn the sky to fall into your dreams<br>A million times for you  
>I hope, I beg, I pray for you..."<br>Erynion could only watch in silence, the way Lalaith seemed to practically sag the moment she was finished singing, as if a lot of energy had just left her.

"Who are you waiting for, my princess?" He asked before he was even conscious of it.

"I don't know." Lalaith answered in a breathless whisper.

It was the truth. She was waiting for something, she could feel it inside, in her blood, her bones, in every inch of her soul... she just did not know what it was supposed to be. As if the stars had whispered some great secret to her, yet didn't give it to her complete, leaving her gasping for more and unable to find it. In the end she could do nothing for wait, if she couldn't go out there herself, she would have to wait for that something to find her.

What neither princess nor protector were aware of, was the tall, lithe figure standing on one of the highest branches of the ash tree, the blacks and greens of his attire making it easy for his form to get lost in the brush. He'd been listening to the princess sing, and it wasn't the first time he did so either. There was just something about the young elf that seemed to drew him in, had from the very first time he'd found his way through the Hidden Roads and emerged on Alfheim of all places. Her voice was like a spell he'd never seen or heard of before, and it had no apparent effects, none except pulling him back time and time again.

Abruptly his whole demeanor changed, he could sense someone trying to force the doors to his chambers open. He'd left a spell there, just in case... which meant he had to run or else he'd be discovered. Only his mother knew he traveled the Hidden Roads, or even knew of them; and even she did not know how often she did it, or where he'd been. So, with that in mind, the young sorcerer used a quick spell to teleport from his spot to the ground, in the shadows where the two elves couldn't see him. Then he went for the cliff and stepped straight into empty air... except not, for right beneath the edge was the entrance to the very Road that had lead him there.

Lalaith raised her head abruptly. She could sense... something, there had been another presence in the clearing. She knew not what or who, but it was important, she could feel it.

"We must go princess." Erynion said solemnly, he'd obviously not noticed a thing. "It's getting late and with the Equinox in three days things are going to be a bit hectic soon."

"Yes, of course." She nodded, getting on her feet and brushing her dress free of dirt, leaves and petals. "Lets go then."

And yet, even as they left she couldn't help but look over her shoulder more than once, in the direction of the cliff... Something had been there, she was sure of that, and she would find out what it was, sooner or later.

If she'd just known just who the 'something' was, and what finding it would entail, she probably wouldn't have been so keen on doing so. Or maybe she would have, even being an elf (the kind of being who valued virtues like patience, compassion and peace above all others), Lalaith was a bit odd in that she liked chaos every now and then, she thought it kept things interesting...

**xXx**

Thor Odinson, the blue eyed, blonde prince of Asgard and god of thunder, stumbled into his brother's private chambers when the lock finally gave in. He immediately found the one he'd gone there looking for: his brother was sitting by the window, looking out silently. The blonde approached the black-haired prince as one would prey, before jumping, intending to scare his 'little' brother a bit. Except the joke was on him, the moment the thunderer went straight through his brother and crashed against the drapes and wall.

"Wha...?!" She was completely confused.

"You should be more careful, brother." A voice drawled behind him. "That could have been an open balcony rather than a closed window you would have crashed into, and what would Asgard have done if their golden prince went flying and crashed on the yard so terribly?"

"Brother!" Thor spun around to face his brother. "I've been looking for you!"

"That much has become obvious already Thor." His green-eyed, raven-haired brother stated. "I believe I made it abundantly clear that I wanted no one to disturb me on this day, as I intended to practice a new, quite complicated spell."

"You're always working, practicing, studying, brother..." Thor shook his head before smiling brightly. "You should go out Loki! Have fun! Live a little! How do you expect to find ladies if you're always locking yourself inside these walls?"

"That you are all for bedding the first wench that winks at you doesn't mean I want to do the same." Loki stated, almost forcefully.

"If the ladies want me..." Thor chuckled humorously, before turning a bit serious. "I understand that such dalliances are not your style. I still wish you would at least try going out every so often." He let out a breath. "I miss you brother..."

The last part of the speech erased every single snide comment and insult Loki might have been thinking of before. Truth was, there were times when he missed his brother too. The two of them had been so tight when children... then they'd turned ten (Thor a year before Loki, but still). And Thor had begun training as a warrior in earnest. With Loki it'd soon become obvious that while quite cunning, fast and flexible, he just wasn't as physically strong as usual asgardian warriors, nor as muscled. Only a few hand-to-hand styles worked for him, and while he was quite handy with knives and daggers, swords tended to be too heavy for him to hold right. He was also good with a staff, though that wasn't an acceptable weapon for a warrior, while bows and arrows were only meant for ceremonial purposes.

Unable to become a good warrior, Loki had turned to magic. He'd been good at that since he was very young. In fact, his mother had begun teaching him the basic since he was but five years old (necessary when any strong emotion caused his magic to act up in the most unpredictable ways... there was a reason people had begun calling him god of mischief).

It had been nine years since, and it almost seemed like with each year the chasm between the two brothers grew wider. Thor had become great friends with Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun, three talented warriors that would train with him every day. As well as Lady Sif, a slip of a girl who'd turned Asgard upside down five years before when she'd defeated every single aspirant to joining the Asgardian army as recruits, wearing old boy-clothes and an armor that had most definitely seen better days. Loki hadn't been able to stop laughing for weeks afterwards.

Sif, from all of his brother's friends, was the only one Loki considered as his own friends as well. And it was quite easy to see why: she, a girl trying to move forward by doing things that were usually reserved for men... True, there were the valkyries, but they were a different case entirely; they had already proven themselves, had the people's approval before they even arrived, unlike Sif herself, who kept dealing with ridicule and despondence.

It was for that same reason that, whenever there was an important event in Asgard, Sif and Loki tended to stick together; helping keep each other's admirers (stalkers, fangirls/fanboys) at bay. They had no interest in each other beyond friendship, and that was that.

"Sometimes I miss you as well, brother." Loki admitted, hesitant at showing sentiment.

He'd been such an empathic boy when young, easy to smile, and also easy to cry. But adults kept telling him he was a man, a prince, he shouldn't be showing his feelings so openly, it wasn't right... so he'd taken to hiding behind all kinds of masks, mostly emotionless or arrogant ones. He knew his mother did not like it, being quite empathic herself, Frigg did not understand what was so wrong with showing feelings openly. But she could see her son had been hurt one too many times over it, and so did not insist.

"Then come!" Thor stated, all animated again. "Spend some time with me and our friends!"

A part of Loki couldn't help but want to remind the blonde that Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun (the Warriors 3, as they called themselves) were no friends of his... but in the end decided there was no point. At least Sif could be expected to be there with them.

They were on the way out of Loki's chambers (a quick spell repairing the broken lock and restoring the privacy spells), when the emerald-eyed prince thought of something.

"Was this really the only reason you chose to break my door down rather than wait for me to come out?" He asked, brow arched.

"I waited! For a long time!" Thor pointed out. "You wouldn't come out."

That might actually be true, the sorcerer wasn't quite sure how long the proximity alarms on his chambers might have been buzzing until he finally noticed and rushed out of Alfheim and back to Asgard and his quarters.

"Thor..." Still, Loki just had the feeling there was something else.

"It's Ostara, in three days." Thor stated, finally.

"The Vernal Equinox." Loki nodded in understanding.

"Mother wanted to ask if you would go to Alfheim in her place, as she's been called to Nornheim and won't be able to make it." Thor explained. "She says it's important that a member of our family attends, as its the beginning of the Testing Year for the potential Mother Queen, and with the treaties the princess has been pushing forward in the last few years, it's only right that Asgard make an appearance in support of her and her rule."

"I shall go." Loki nodded.

He was so interested he didn't even notice the wide-eyed expression his brother sent his way. And it was that never before had Loki agreed so easily to attending any event, of any kind. For the most part Asgard's younger prince seemed to downright hate such things. So the fact that he so easily accepted going, immediately showed that something was afoot.

Yet, Thor had long since learnt not to get into his brother's business, or at least not directly, unless he wanted to end up with maggots in his food, serpents in his bed or vinegar in place of good mead (Loki did love his mischief). So he decided to wait and see if something happened; if not he would ask Sif, or his mother.

**xXx**

Lalaith had always loved all the festivities that formed the Wheel of the Year (nothing to do with the fact that she was born in one: Imbolc, a day dedicated for purification, the arts, as well as healing), each for different reasons. Ostara (the Vernal Equinox) in particular for the blooming, so many flowers, and she'd always loved those, especially the roses. Even if they weren't originally from Alfheim, and were quite rare in her world (she'd read in some old journals about and adventurous elf who had found secret roads to other realms, and had found the flower in one of those, returning with some to Alfheim, where they were allowed to grow in certain places (though she'd never seen as many and as various as the ones in her sanctuary).

She didn't love the event any less that year, though the fact that she was forced into the most elaborate, somewhat obnoxious (and heavy) gown yet was certainly a problem. The dress was bright scarlet (a color she would have never chosen for herself) and on her head was a crown of flowers, symbolically, as a reminder of the crown she'd (hopefully) be given a year from that day, when she became Queen. Some had wanted her to be granted the crown and title earlier, ignoring the rules of age, as well as bypassing the tests entirely, stating that she was the only potential queen anyway, and there was no point in testing her. Lalaith had opposed that course of action strongly, stating that if they were to remain true to their history and traditions they had to respect all of them, and not just the ones they found convenient. So she'd remained princess and would go through each test as was expected (they were seven, one taking place in each festival, aside from the one where she was 'presented').

The delegation from Asgard was the last to present their respects and best wishes to Princess Lalaith Mirloth that day; though it did not seem as specially important, until Lord Erynion (who'd personally overseen the list of the members of the delegation) noticed that instead of Queen Frigg and an escort (unlikely to be the King, since he was always busy), the one leading the small group was the youngest prince: Loki, the god of mischief; at his side stood Lady Sif, the goddess of war, who even as young as she was was already becoming quite famous.

"Elen sîla lúmmen' omentielvo (A star shines in the hour of our meeting)..." The prince greeted in perfect elvish.

If Lalaith was surprised, she didn't let it show; though Erynion certainly was. The words the Aesir prince had just pronounced were the traditional words elves used when meeting each other, or at least they'd been in the old times, few people used them anymore. To have someone, especially a foreigner used them in that moment... Erynion wasn't sure if it ought to be seen as a great sign of respect, or an omen of something incredible (and possibly terrible) to come.

"Saesa omentien lle (A pleasure meeting you)..." Lalaith replied in a melodic tone.

The fact that the princess herself offered the correct reply (which was a higher level than the words she'd used to receive anyone else), didn't help matters any, where Erynion was concerned. Still, he couldn't help but think it was all for a reason.

"My mother sends her regrets at not being able to attend this most perfect celebration, Your Highness." Prince Loki stated, back in Common Tongue. "She means no disrespect, which is why she sent me in her place. I have heard nothing but wonderful things of you, my lady, and I have no doubt that all the Realms will be fortunate to have such a remarkable individual as Alfheim's Mother Queen. We can all see all the good you've done for your realm thus far... may this be the beginning of brighter and happier times."

"May the stars hear your words and light our paths." Lalaith told him with a nod.

One more bow, and the Asgardian delegation moved on... and Erynion couldn't help but notice his princess's eyes following them until they disappeared in the crowd.

Loki and Lalaith did not speak again to each other for the rest of the day, and yet, they would continuously gaze around, as if looking for the other, always believing no one could see it, though some did, specifically two someones...

**xXx**

Beltane was the next celebration, though that was mostly limited to Alfheim. It was also Lalaith's first test. It was the easiest, just checking her mental knowledge: history, folklore, traditions, languages and the like. She was quite talented, knowing the original language of every realm as well as Common, and a number of other Ancient Tongues.

The next festivity, that of Summer Solstice, was another matter entirely. The test took place early, before the celebrations began. It was a test of purity. Of mind, soul, heart and body; while mostly it implied spell-weavers and a chosen with the Sight confirming that she was untouched by evil, an added point was making sure that she was untouched by any man. Erynion thought it was terribly insulting; though Lalaith had shut him easily enough, once again stating that they would follow all traditions, even the ones they did not like, because it was right.

The hard part should have been done and over with once that was finished. The rest of the day was meant to be nothing but celebration, and it was, until the time came for the singing.

Erynion wasn't surprised when the princess took the first opportunity to leave the dais from where she'd presided over the beginning of the celebrations. He even had a pretty good of where she might be, as she seemed to prefer watching the night's events from a distance; more specifically, the second level balcony, keeping herself hidden in between the vines up there (which wasn't easy with the heavy orange gown she'd been dressed in that day).

As the night was one where everyone in Alfheim took the change to try and find true love, it was customary for them to be masked (that way they only had to reveal themselves to the one who's song called to them, and only if they were willing).

Many voices were heard that night, and it seemed like nothing special, until one. Even afterwards Erynion wouldn't be able to say what exactly drew his attention to that song, that voice, only that he instinctively knew it was important:

"She stares through my shadow  
>She sees something more<br>Believes there's a light in me  
>She is sure<br>And her truth makes me stronger  
>Does she realize<br>I awake every morning  
>With her strength by my side."<p>

It was clear, from the very beginning, that that wasn't the song of a man looking for love, of those who sang in the hope of someone listening to them, anyone, feeling drawn to that song. No, that song was obviously meant for someone, a very special someone, though there was no way for anyone to know who, or even who the singer was. One thing was clear though, he was a sorcerer. It was clear in the way he'd woven magic to make the instruments follow him, rather than let the musicians find their way into the melody he was creating with his own voice. There was great power in him, and amazing focus. If only they knew who the song was meant for...

"I am not a hero  
>I am not an angel<br>I am just a man  
>Man who's trying to love her<br>Unlike any other  
>In her eyes I am..."<p>

All around the clearing, activity stopped, as all eyes turned to the singer on the dais. They were all drawn by the song, even if no name had been given, and no one was reacting in any particular way that made it seem they were the object of the song. And the singer, above all, was giving nothing away, his eyes to the sky as he continued, never meeting anyone's gaze... or so it seemed.

"This world keeps on spinning  
>Only she stills my heart<br>She's my inspiration  
>She's my northern star<br>I don't count my possessions  
>All I call mine<br>I will give her completely  
>To the end of all time."<p>

What no one knew was that the singer was no elf, no, it was an Aesir; and not even any Aesir, but the second prince: Loki. He'd returned to Alfheim, hoping to meet again the woman he couldn't get out of his mind, no matter how hard his tried. Time and again his brother had taken him to pubs and parties, pushing him in the direction of this or that girl, but none of them mattered in his eyes; his mind was always bringing up another one. And it wasn't even the picture of the perfectly poised princess he'd seen on the Equinox, but that of the girl in the simple dress, kneeling a midst a hundred roses in a secret corner of Alfheim. She fit so perfectly in that surrounding, as if she were a rose that had been blessed with elven form. Hair a mix of browns, reds and the darkest gold, and her eyes... a perfect, earthly mix of brown and green. How those eyes haunted him... to the point that when he'd heard that elf say that the highlight of that night's celebration was the chance for any elf to express their love through song, he hadn't been able to hold himself back. It mattered not that he'd never before sung, that he had no song in mind, he just let his heart, his soul, speak for him, and the result was more than he could have ever dreamt of...

"I am not a hero  
>I am not an angel<br>I am just a man  
>Man who's trying to love her<br>Unlike any other  
>In her eyes I am..."<p>

"In her eyes I see the sky and all I'll ever need  
>In her eyes time passes by and she is with me..."<p>

Also unknown to anyone in the clearing, Loki's eyes weren't staring at the sky, no, they were fixed straight on the one hiding on the second level's balcony. And she knew that as well as he did. Still, she was so shocked by his song, by his daring, that she wouldn't move, wouldn't say a word, she hardly even breathed, even as she couldn't help but feel inside her body, her heart-rate pick up, her song come alight, the fire growing brighter with every verse sung.

"I am not a hero  
>I am not an angel<br>I am just a man  
>Man who's trying to love her<br>Unlike any other  
>In her eyes I am...<br>In her eyes I am..."

Even after the song ended, Loki did nothing but stare straight at her, the young princess hiding behind the flowers and vines. Willing her to acknowledge him, his song. Yet she wouldn't, she knew she couldn't, something he couldn't seem to be able to comprehend. So she simply turned, fleeing the balcony and the celebration as a whole, not to return for the rest of the night. And Loki was left standing there, having sung his heart out, with no idea what else to do.

Unknown to Lalaith, even as she ran, the wind carried her sobbed words to Loki's ears:

"I cannot, I must not..." She murmured to herself. "No love, no passion, only duty. My body, my mind, my heart to Alfheim, and nothing else matters..."

So said she... yet her soul knew that wasn't true, not anymore, it might have never been...

**xXx**

Erynion would hate to admit it, but it actually took him a while to notice something was very wrong with his princess. After a month he began seeing her constantly stressed out, yet thought it was simply the next test coming. A test of her judgment, of her decision-making; yet she'd been doing such things for years by then, so it wasn't that hard. Not really.

Then Lammas, and her test, passed, easy enough, and the princess's tension only seemed to escalate. It was then that Erynion decided to investigate. He noticed she was almost permanently depressed, eyes straying around her, as if looking for something that ought to be there yet wasn't. As if the absence of that something were breaking her inside a little bit at the time. During the first six weeks it hadn't been quite as obvious, the stress back then had been more a speculative one, the anxiousness of hoping and fearing for something at the same time. And then the festival passed, and it was then that depression set in.

It still took almost six more weeks for Erynion to fully understand the cause for the depression. It couldn't be the tests, everyone agreed the princess had been doing wonderful thus far, that and the near twenty years she'd spent as princess were more than proof enough that she was capable, and also exactly what Alfheim needed.

Then a day came when he saw her leave the palace in the middle of the night (late enough that they were closer to dawn that to dusk already). She was in her sleeping clothes, a robe haphazardly thrown over, no shoes and her hair still in its loose sleeping braid. Erynion was so afraid of what she might do when in such a state that he followed her instantly. He lost her a couple of times through the woods, but knowing where she'd end up helped. He reached the sanctuary just in time to see it begin.

It was a song, or supposed to be; Erynion wasn't actually sure it ought to have that name, there was so much pain in each word, it wasn't what elves used their songs for; though, at the same time, they were her feelings, she was expressing herself, and that was most definitely why the elves sang, in the end. It was obviously what had her singing...

"Notice me  
>Take my hand<br>Why are we  
>Strangers when<br>Our love is strong  
>Why carry on without me?"<p>

"Everytime I try to fly  
>I fall without my wings<br>I feel so small  
>I guess I need you darlin'.<br>And everytime I see you in my dreams  
>I see your face, it's haunting me<br>I guess I need you darlin'."

From the moment the song began the Lord Protector knew, without a doubt, that what made his princess sad wasn't really a thing, but a person. She was depressed for the absence of a person. Someone she'd expected to attend Lammas ahd hadn't, someone she kept hoping to see... And it wasn't just in her voice, but in her posture and her every gesture. The way she knelt rather than sat in between the roses, eyes to the sky, arms extended, as if reaching for something (someone) that wasn't really there, and all he could do was wonder who it was she missed so strongly?

"I make believe  
>That you are here<br>It's the only way  
>I see clear<br>What have I done?  
>You seem to move on easy."<p>

"And everytime I try to fly  
>I fall without my wings<br>I feel so small  
>I guess I need you darlin'.<br>And everytime I see you in my dreams  
>I see your face, you're haunting me<br>I guess I need you darlin'."

"I may have made it rain  
>Please forgive me<br>My weakness caused you pain  
>And this song is my sorry..."<p>

It came to him rather abruptly, as his princess sang those very lines, along with the memory of a man with the eyes to the sky, singing seemingly to the stars... except he hadn't been looking at the stars; Erynion realized that, finally. Lalaith had been on a balcony in the second level, and the man had known, he'd sung that song for her. He'd obviously not gotten the response he was expecting, she hadn't gone to him, because she was the princess, Alfheim's future queen, she just couldn't... and that had caused him pain, and was causing her pain, even three months later...

"At night I pray  
>That soon your face<br>Will fade away"

"And everytime I try to fly  
>I fall without my wings<br>I feel so small  
>I guess I need you darlin'.<br>And everytime I see you in my dreams  
>I see your face, you're haunting me<br>I guess I need you darlin'."

The Lord Protector moved before he was even conscious of it, rushing down from the tree and to his princess's side in an instant. He would have called to her, if he didn't think that would only make things worse, he looked so weary, so fragile in that moment, as if a single word could break her, either his or hers.

"Lalaith...?" He called, kneeling by her side.

The she-elf's eyes snapped open abruptly. Erynion hardly ever called her by her given name; in fact, she was rather sure he hadn't for almost a decade... It took a few seconds but eventually she seemed to remember what she'd just sung, and realize that he must have heard her. Her rosy skin went pale so fast Erynion feared she could faint.

"Amin hiraetha (I am sorry)..." She croaked.

The fact that she was asking for forgiveness in their own ancient tongue was more than enough confirmation about something being very wrong.

"What ails you, little one?" He asked her in a thick brogue and a brotherly manner.

So many times he'd asked her that, in the quiet of the night, in the privacy of her own quarters, many years before. At a time when she'd been so young, technically still a child, and yet she'd willingly left all she knew behind to become a princess. Erynion, almost ten years older than her, had been an older brother to her back then, her confidant, before ever becoming her protector. It seemed at times to him that their respective duties had only pulled them apart.

"My soul weeps..." She answered in a low voice.

He immediately realized that was a very specific choice of words, and also that, together, they could only mean one thing: a broken match...

But how?! He would have known if his princess had a match, wouldn't he? Except... no. He would have known if his little sister had found her match, but he hadn't treated her as his little sister for many years. With everyone around always talking about duty, about when she'd be Queen; with everyone constantly reminding her of her place, even him... it was probably no surprise that she hadn't confided in him. He wondered when the last time was anyone called her Lalaith, rather than simply princess?

What he didn't understand was, how could it be? The Mother Queen had no match, she lived for her realm and its people; even the princesses, they could only marry if they surrendered their crowns and titles, and even to do that they needed first to have chosen a successor and for the Queen to approve of the change... Still, those were just protocols, he had rarely seen a princess step down, and it'd never happened with a Queen. It was believed to be impossible. They were born to serve Alfheim...

Except Lalaith wasn't born to be Queen, not even a princess, was she? The little girl might have selflessly offered herself in Alfheim's time of greater need. And they'd all been so terrified at the prospect of existing without a Queen... that they accepted, never thinking about how they might end up hurting her sooner or later.

"It's alright, Lalaith, sweetheart, it'll be alright." He would do everything in his power to make sure of that.

"I... I shouldn't..." She kept trying to apologize. "My duty... I..."

"Sh..." He crooned at her, as if she were a little girl once again. "It's alright little one. Everything will be fine. We didn't know, no one could have known..."

"I did." That affirmation shocked him to his core.

She had known she had a match?!

"Nana (Mama)... she had the Sight, though hardly anyone knew." She admitted, taking a deep breath. "She said no one outside our family could know. Because if they knew they would want to take her away, send her with the coven, and that wasn't where she was meant to be."

"What did she See?" Erynion dared ask after several seconds of silence.

"She saw our future, my sister's, and mine." Lalaith began saying, sounding half-absent. "She said that both of us would carry crowns, one by fate, the other by destiny. She said Merilwen's heart would always be for her Queen, her body and mind on her duties, and her soul would be for Alfheim; meanwhile I... she said my body and mind would lead me to duties, as would my heart and soul, until the day a song would shatter the duty and claim me completely. Then my soul would never be my own again. I would instead live for the roses, the stars and magic..."

"Magic...?" Somehow that part seemed to be what confused Erynion most. "But I thought you had no magic..."

"It's what she said." Lalaith murmured, not quite paying attention anymore.

Erynion would probably be the first to admit he did not understand a lot of what was going on, at all. He knew Seers were quite real, though by the way Lalaith had explained things, it was quite obvious he wouldn't be able to find that prophecy in the archives. Which meant that all he knew about them was whatever the princess remembered. He wondered what it meant about one of the sisters carrying the crown for fate and the other for destiny... Though still, it was quite obvious that the most important part was the one that mentioned Lalaith surrendering her heart and soul to a song (though that certainly fit what he'd been able to deduce thus far). And yet, that did not help him decide what he ought to do next.

"Lalaith..." He called, when he noticed her eyes beginning to close.

"I'm tired, big brother..." She murmured, barely in a whisper.

The Protector's mind was made up the moment the she-elf went limp, unconscious, surrounded by wilting roses. She'd been suffering so much, in silence, for weeks, it was time it stopped. He knew his actions would have consequences, and yet he couldn't help but feel it needed to be done. His princess needed help... no, his dearest friend, needed help.

Thenidiel, the young but very promising spell-weaver seemed to be waiting for him when the Lord Protector arrived. She didn't allow him to say a word, and he could guess why, as long as the words weren't said they each could claim deniability in their own way... she simply handed him what looked like a translucent bauble, though he could feel there was power in it.

"Drop it at your own feet when you're ready." She told him in a calm voice, with the cadence all spell-weavers seemed to have. "It will take you where you need to be."

"How will I get back?" That truly worried Erynion, how could he help Lalaith if he couldn't get back to her?

"He will know how." Thenidiel told him simply.

Erynion didn't ask who 'he' was, even if he himself did not know. They were still in the palace, and walls had ears. He didn't want word of anything getting out until it was absolutely necessary. If Lalaith truly had a match (and everything seemed to point in that direction), the implications of such a thing... there was no way of knowing what would happen.

**xXx**

The moment his feet touched ground again, Erynion immediately began looking around, soon noticing the golden palace rising behind him. He was in Asgard... the moment he fully processed that, he had a very good idea who the mysterious singer was.

Getting inside the palace was easy, even cloaked and with the hood up as he was (he didn't want someone to recognize and ask what the Lord Protector of Alfheim was doing there). What wasn't quite as easy, was finding prince Loki. Until someone found him instead. At first he was sure the Lady Sif would turn him over to the guards, until he said he was looking for Prince Loki. He would never know how exactly that had been enough o convince the Lady Sif to help him, rather than believe him insane, or worse, a criminal. But she guided him to a different hall, which he soon realized was the Royal Wing.

Erynion wasn't expecting what he found once he was in; though, on hindsight, he should have. The young Aesir prince looked almost as bad as his princess was, though he was obviously still fighting to hide it. The elven-warrior remembered the first thought he'd had after Lalaith had told him what was wrong with her; though he still couldn't wrap his head around how it was even possible. The two had never so much as touched each other, they'd hardly even spent time in the other's company; and the only two times they'd exchanged words were during his visit to Alfheim during Ostara and his song while masked in the Solstice. How then had they developed a bond so strong they were suffering from the breaking (or at least the weakening) of it? It was almost as if the bond had formed all on its own...

Erynion chose to push the thought away, rather than to follow that line and be forced to consider the implications of a soul-bond, a match, forming all on its own; for it was one thing for them to say that the stars created matches, usually they were people who got to know each other before anything happened, but with those two...

The moment the black-haired prince laid eyes on the elven protector, as the hood was pushed down, he reacted (though Erynion could see he was forcing himself to move).

"What's happened?" He asked, trying for demanding, but only managing to sound breathless.

"I think you already know, my lord..." Erynion murmured.

"But... no..." The aesir was in denial. "It's not possible. She... it was her choice."

"I don't think anything is truly her choice, or yours, anymore, where it comes to your situation, your Highness." The Protector murmured, waiting a beat before adding, hesitantly. "I don't think it ever was, not really."

"What are you talking about?" Sif demanded abruptly.

"My lady..." Erynion began, not really knowing what to say.

"Don't my-lady me, Lord!" the goddes of war snapped at him. "I brought you here because you obviously knew something about what's wrong with Loki. He's been like this for weeks, getting worse every day, now tell me what's wrong with him!"

"The closest thing I have to describing it is a stressed-out bond." Erynion told her respectfully.

"Stressed out..." Sif repeated, before fully processing it. "What?! What bond? How?" She turned to Loki abruptly. "When did you bond with anyone?!"

"That's the point exactly Sif, I never did... at least not consciously." Loki admitted quietly.

"But... an involuntary bond..." Sif's eyes widened dramatically. "That's almost unheard of! It's supposed to be just a legend..."

"Yet here we are..." Loki drawled sarcastically.

"Who...?" Sif asked, eyes intense.

Erynion snapped his mouth closed abruptly. He couldn't make the choice for the prince, but he wasn't giving up his princess, not with something so delicate.

"I don't think it would be a good idea to say it Sif." Loki murmured, looking straight at his friend and willing her to understand. "It's not that I don't trust you, I promise. I just don't trust whoever else might happen to listen..."

Sif knew what he meant. How could she not? She had spent a lot of time in Loki's company in the last ten years or so, practically lived in the palace herself! She knew that there were always people trying to listen in on others, and most weren't good. If Loki truly was part of something as rare and legendary as an involuntary match... then it probably was better to keep her soul-mate's identity a secret, at least until they knew more of what was going on. Though, truth be told, the elf's presence was enough to make her suspect; and yet she would never say anything about it, she knew Loki trusted her a lot, allowing her to remain present as he and the Lord Protector had such a delicate conversation, she wouldn't let her dear friend down.

When they got back to Alfheim Erynion took a moment to process the existence of the Hidden Roads (he'd read about them once, but never imagined seeing, much less traveling through one). Sif had stayed back, so the two of them were the only ones to travel. Erynion was specially unsure about the fact that the Road lead straight into his princess's sanctuary... Then, as he turned to express his opinion to either his princess, the prince, or both, he couldn't help but freeze as his eyes laid on them.

Loki was half lying, half sitting against the over-grown roots of the huge white ash tree, eyes closed; Lalaith was curled into his body, her head on his shoulder one of her hands being held by one of his, the other fisted on his forest-green tunic; meanwhile, the prince's free hand was carding through her auburn hair (which, at some point, had been released from its braid).

A part of Erynion expected to feel affronted by the fact that a foreigner (a man at all) was holding his princess (his little sister) so closely, and when she was dressed in nothing more than sleeping clothes and a thin robe. And yet, something just felt right, about the way the two were holding onto each other, so much that, in the end, Erynion said nothing. Besides, there was nothing sexual about the way the pair held onto each other, it was tender, emotional and so many other things the Protector couldn't quite put into words, yet in no way improper.

"Worry about nothing." He said, eventually, not even truly thinking about the words before he said them. "I'll let the council know that our princess is feeling a bit under the weather and would rather be left alone for the day."

He thought the two might have nodded, but he wasn't quite sure. Still, he trusted they would know... and he had to go and make sure no one would notice the princess really wasn't in her quarters; he honestly had no idea what they'd be doing later but, hopefully, there would be time for that... later.

The next day, Erynion couldn't help but feel like he was seeing his princess for the first time, or a whole new her. It wasn't that she'd regressed, not at all. She wasn't who she'd been before that fateful Midsummer festival, (with the declaration and the apparent rejection), not even as she'd been before first laying eyes on him during Ostara. No, it was like a new version of her, a better one... and wasn't that the whole purpose of a bond, to bring out the best in a person? To inspire them, push them forward and complete them... And that last part was precisely the problem, for how could she ever be their Mother Queen, when she'd already been completed by her match.

That day's test (the princess's connection to the land) went easy enough. Erynion, as always, was there to offer his support and give his approval in the end. He knew he could have said something about the growing bond between Lalaith and the Aesir prince, but in the end decided not to. He would wait and see. After all, if the two got nowhere with the bond there was no reason to ruin everything she'd worked for during the last twenty years, right? Right... he had a feeling it wouldn't be that easy.

**xXx**

Weeks later came Samhain, once again a festival that was limited to Alfheim. Still, Erynion was not surprised at all when he saw Prince Loki in attendance. He was alone, as was to be expected, and doing the best not to call any attention onto his person, and Erynion decided to help him by not approaching him at all. Instead he just watched from a distance the looks he and the princess kept giving each other, making sure no one noticed (though he was still surprised no one did, even with all his efforts).

Later that same day, after the test (about the stars, that time), the feast, and right before the starlit vigil that would last for the rest of the night, Erynion made up his mind to meet with the two of them and remind them of how delicate it would be if people were to so much as suspect anything improper was going on between the two of them. What he wasn't expecting was the conversation he ended up overhearing from just outside his princess's private quarters.

"It hurts still, you know?" She whispered, her voice low and watery.

"I know..." He murmured back, and it sounded like he truly did. "I feel it too..."

"It's like... sometimes I feel like everyone else has forgotten everything, forgotten them. Like they are now just part of one of the festivals... but I still remember. I remember Merilwen's face so clearly. She was always the most beautiful of the family, tall, lithe, the prettiest she-elf in the village, everyone said. So many elves wanted her hand, but her heart was completely devoted to Alfheim, to serving our people."

"Like you..." Loki murmured to her.

"I try." She sounded hesitant. "But at times I'm not sure I manage. It's just, if I was really a good princess, a good future-Queen, I would see everyone as equal... and I don't, not always. I still see Erynion as my big-brother, and all the orphans working in the palace like kids I have to protect. And... there are times when I see someone who seems extra-special to me, because they remind me of Merilwen, or of Nana in some way; and I care for them a little more, for that same reason. I know I shouldn't, but I do... I loved them so much. Merilwen in particular, she was my whole world for those years in my early childhood. As my mother kept losing herself more and more in her Visions, Merilwen took care of me. And then she had to go, I was still very young, but she told me I needed to be a big girl, because Alfheim needed her, and Mama needed me." She let out a breath. "She's the reason I offered myself as a princess, you know?"

"I knew not that it'd been your choice." The prince admitted.

"It was." She agreed. "Mother did not agree. Even as she knew it was meant to be, she feared for me, I think. Feared that the weight of the crown might push me down. And it had, almost completely, until the day I met you."

"The day we met was quite remarkable for me too. I'd never felt such a connection with anyone just when meeting their eyes... And then I got to see you, and I heard everyone talking about you. You're quite a remarkable woman, princess..."

"Don't..." She was almost pleading. "Don't call me that, not you."

"I don't understand..."

"That's all I am to them, to all of Alfheim, sometimes even to Erynion. I am their princess. The future Mother-Queen, the one they have staked all their hopes on, their faith that one day Alfheim will go back to what it was before the Ice Wars... I don't know if I can do it... All that weight on my shoulders, sometimes I feel it might crush me."

"It won't. You're so strong..." He made a pause before adding. "Would you rather I call you by your given name then, Lalaith?"

"I'm not sure. That name doesn't really feel like mine anymore. The only one to use that name in the last twenty years is Erynion, and even then it happens so rarely that whenever he does call me that I need to take a moment to remember it is me he's talking to..."

For several seconds, not a word was said. The Lord Protector was about to walk away, deciding to leave the two royals to their private conversations, when he heard Loki speak again:

"But that's not what has you down today." He commented, low but intense. "Today is Samhain, the day of the dead... does this have something to do wth your sister?"

"For the last nineteen years the Elders have taken to making a mention of all we lost the Bloody Night, during the Ice Wars." She explained quietly. "The loss of our last Mother Queen, the court of Princesses as well as the legion of Protectors. They always ask me to say a few words to lead the vigil, and remember them. It's become so normal that I almost think that they no longer truly care, it's just become habit. And I don't know if they're the ones being insensitive, maybe because none of them had any personal connections to anyone who perished that day; or if I'm the one in the wrong, still caring this much after all these years."

"It's never wrong to care..." Loki whispered. "You have a big heart, my dear, it's not a weakness."

"Same to you..." She murmured, almost too quietly. "You have a greater heart than anyone else I've ever known. And I love that."

"You might be the only one who does..." The young prince admitted.

Erynion didn't hear more, he did not need to. He simply turned and left.

He saw his princess again once the sky was completely dark, the stars the only light illuminating anything in that moment. She was, as was tradition, in a completely white hooded cloak, her face all that could be seen, and in her hands she was holding a lit candle; then, from the second level balcony (the same where she'd once hidden), she addressed the elves gathered all around. Some were also on trees, others on the ground. Erynion himself was standing on a nearby ledge, meant to be the one to receive the light from her candle on his own, passing it over. He could also see, with some effort, a figure hiding in the shadows behind her, out of view of anyone but the two of them: Prince Loki.

"People of Alfheim, my family..." She called with the serenity of always, but a quiet intensity that was very recent. "We all know what this night means. Samhain, the night of the spirits, and of the stars. Long have we believed that the people we love are never truly lost to us, even when they leave this life behind, they rise to become stars, and from there they keep watching over us. That is why tonight is so very important, it's the day we remember them, everyone we've cared for who might no longer be by our side." She took a deep breath, before saying something no one could have ever expected. "As we begin our vigil, I would like to do something different this year. Rather than remember our loved ones in the silence that is death, I would like for us all to remember them in voice, in song, as has always been our best way of expressing..."

There was no actual answer, but in the end the princess seemed to take the expectation in their eyes as approval enough. Soft music, soft piano and possible something with chords, began sounding behind her. Erynion was so shocked by her announcement he barely remembered his duties when she lit his candle with her own. Her smile finally convinced him to move on, even as her voice began filling the night, for the first time ever...

"Found myself today  
>Oh, I found myself and ran away<br>Something pulled me back  
>The voice of reason I forgot I had<br>All I know is you're not here to say  
>What you always used to say<br>But it's written in the sky tonight."

"So I won't give up  
>No I won't break down<br>Sooner than it seems life turns around  
>And I will be strong<br>Even if it all goes wrong  
>When I'm standing in the dark I'll still believe<br>Someone's watching over me..."

No one but Erynion had ever heard her sing before, and even for him it was a whole new experience. He'd only ever heard Lalaith sing out her pain and grief, and while in that moment there was obviously pain, in her voice, her words... there was more than just that. There was hope, and light and so much love... And as her voice grew stronger with every verse, more and more candles came alight, the points of light in the forest mimicking those high on the night-sky.

"Seen that ray of light  
>And it's shining on my destiny<br>Shining all the time  
>And I wont be afraid<br>To follow everywhere it's taking me  
>All I know is yesterday is gone<br>And right now I belong  
>To this moment to my dreams."<p>

"So I won't give up  
>No I won't break down<br>Sooner than it seems life turns around  
>And I will be strong<br>Even if it all goes wrong  
>When I'm standing in the dark I'll still believe<br>Someone's watching over me..."

"It doesn't matter what people say  
>And it doesn't matter how long it takes<br>Believe in yourself and you'll fly high  
>And it only matters how true you are<br>Be true to yourself and follow your heart..."

It was a Samhain night like none Alfheim had seen in all its history. The night of the dead, of the stars, the spirits, have always been one of memorial, of mourning. But that night, with one song, their princess had turned it into one of remembrance, of hope, light and love... so much love...

"So I won't give up  
>No I won't break down<br>Sooner than it seems life turns around  
>And I will be strong<br>Even if it all goes wrong  
>When I'm standing in the dark I'll still believe...<br>That I won't give up  
>No I won't break down<br>Sooner than it seems life turns around  
>And I will be strong<br>Even when it all goes wrong  
>When I'm standing in the dark I'll still believe<br>That someone's watching over  
>Someone's watching over<br>Someone's watching over me...  
>Someone's watching over me..."<p>

When the song ended, not one said anything openly, though for the rest of the night Erynion was sure he kept hearing elves all around whispering the same words over and over again: Someone's watching over me...

Eventually the candles were consumed the sun came up, pushing the stars back into hiding, and the people began slowly returning to their homes. Erynion went looking for his princess, only to find her in a half-hidden alcove, with Loki. The Protector was actually beginning to get used to seeing the two together, after six weeks of going to find his princess in her sanctuary, and more than half of those times finding her with him (either in his arms, or side by side); they never did anything improper, just sat talking, sometimes even without saying a word. One time in particular Erynion had found his princess sitting in the middle of a veritable twister of rose petals, being moved around by Loki, both of them laughing exuberantly. It'd been so long since he'd heard Lalaith laugh like that, so carefree, so full of life...

"Tinúviel..." He heard the Aesir prince murmur, almost reverently.

"Nightingale?" The elven princess inquired, confused.

"I've been trying to decide on a name to call you." He explained. "A name that is just yours, that fits what you are now, beyond your title, and beyond the girl you might have once been. And I think it fits, as your voice is truly the most beautiful I've heard my whole life..." He reached a hand to cup her face before whispering, again reverent: "Tinúviel..."

"I like it..." She admitted, almost shyly. "Thank you..."

"No need for that." He assured her, kissing her knuckles. "I am the grateful one, to you, and to the stars that guided my path to yours, the most beautiful creature in all the realms..."

There was no verbal reply from the princess, but Erynion could see the reflection of her face on the glass of a nearby lamp, she was smiling...

**xXx**

Erynion had thought nothing else could surprise him anymore, not with all the surprises he'd gotten already; he was wrong, as he found out ten days later when his princess approached him, to let him no she'd be nowhere to be found the following evening.

"What do you mean you're going to Asgard?" He fought with himself not to yell and call anyone else's attention. "There are no plans for a visit to Asgard... we're not ready for..."

"Not we, Erynion, me." She interrupted him. "And I am not going there as the crown princess of Alfheim, but simply as Loki's friend."

The Lord Protector just didn't know what to say to that.

"It's the feast for the Eihenjar." Lalaith explained to him. "Loki usually feels a bit lonely during such events, as he's the only one in his group of friends who's not a warrior; so I offered to go and keep him company. I will wear my favorite dress, a sand-colored cloak and my hair down. No one will know who I am, I assure you. Besides, it's not like anyone outside Alfheim has ever seen my face, what with the traditional half-veil I wear in public... sometimes I have a feeling even my own people would not recognize me if I were to meet them without the heavy dresses, elaborate hair-dos and veil..."

Erynion had no idea what to say to that, so he kept silent; he could also realize that Lalaith wasn't really asking his permission for the trip the following day, she'd already decided to go. All he could do was make sure no one would notice her absence. It wasn't time for Alfheim to find out the truth about their 'potential queen', not yet.

**xXx**

Lalaith was right when she said no one would recognize her. No one seemed to be paying much attention to the fact that the young prince was staying very close to the girl in the lilac dress, or the fact that no one had seen her before. The Warriors Three simply thought that Loki had finally managed to sweet-talk someone; Thor was glad his brother seemed to be enjoying himself for a change, but was too busy himself to pay attention to the fact that he stayed with the same girl throughout the night. The only one who noticed everything and decided to investigate what was going on, was Sif.

"Ok, what's going on here?" The golden haired goddess of war demanded as she reached them.

"So pleasant to see you too, Sif, my friend." Loki drawled.

The she-elf couldn't help herself, she giggled.

"Who is this?!" She hissed.

"Right..." Loki smirked as he went through introductions. "Sif, this is Tinúviel; Tinúviel, this is the Lady Sif, my dearest friend in all of Asgard..."

Sif's expression softened at those words, even as she continued studying the she-elf carefully. She could see the moment the girl turned inquisitive hazel-eyes to Loki, a question in her expression, which the sorcerer apparently could read, for he nodded almost imperceptibly at her.

"What's going on between you two?" She asked, brows furrowed.

"Sif, meet my bonded." Loki announced with a smile.

"Fintalëharyon calls me Tinúviel, but if you must know, my name is Lalaith Mirloth." The she-elf said, twisting her hand before her chest in the traditional elven greeting.

"Lalaith Mirloth?" Sif repeated, contemplative. "Where have I heard that name before?"

"I am the princess of Alfheim." Lalaith said calmly.

Sif could only gape, long enough Loki actually chuckled at her.

"This cannot be..." The goddess turned to stare at her friend. "You went and bonded with the future queen of Alfheim?!"

It was probably a good thing that the young sorcerer had discreetly raised a privacy ward the moment Sif had joined them, for his friend truly lost it there for a moment, voice shooting through one or two octaves.

"It was an involuntary bond, lady Sif." Lalaith told her quietly. "Neither of us chose this. We tried to fight it but... it didn't work out."

Sif actually winced at the reminder, she'd hated seeing her friend like that. Still, the implications something like that would have... she really didn't want to think about it; so she decided not to, instead focusing on something else.

"What did you just call Loki?" She asked the elf. "Fint-something..."

"Fintalëharyon..." Lalaith pronounced slowly. "Roughly translated it would mean trick-prince, a prince of tricks, both for his magic and his mischief." She smiled, looking at her bonded briefly. "We don't really have a word for what he is and can do."

"I don't think anyone has a word for what he is..." Sif quipped. "So, tell me, what was it you two were silently-conversing about?"

"Well..." Lalaith actually hesitated before admitting the truth. "Back in Alfheim no one except my protector, Lord Erynion, knows about us, our bond. I wanted to know if it was safe to share the truth of who I am with you." She sighed. "I know that when the truth comes out, things will get very, very complicated. I cannot be Queen if I am bonded."

"But you're already bonded..." Sif began, before breaking off in shock.

"Exactly." Lalaith smiled grimly.

"And you're telling me all this..." Sif really did not understand that part.

"Loki trusts you." The elven princess said, as if it were that simple, and maybe for her it was.

Sif did not say a word, she couldn't. To have that level of trust... she didn't think even Thor trusted her that much. It was amazing and humbling at the same time. She smiled, silently promising herself to do all she could never to break that trust.

**xXx**

Weeks passed, a new test and festival on Yule. The test had been on relations with other realms, and it took the form of the re-negotiation of the trading deal with Vanaheim (some people were unhappy with the current one). It went wonderfully. What no one new was that the princess had gotten prior coaching from one that knew the in and outs of Vanaheim's politics in a way very few did: Loki. Still, in the end everyone was happy, which was all that mattered.

Then, as February came closer, and with it Imbolc, Erynion knew they were running out of time. Something needed to be done about Lalaith's bond to Loki, and her queen-ship, and it needed to be done soon. Still, he wasn't sure what to do, which brought him to Thenidiel again:

"You know there is a reason why sorcerers cannot be part of the court, right?" She asked softly.

"I need the advice of someone I can trust." He admitted quietly.

"And you will always be able to trust me Erynion, you know that." Thenidiel assured him. "We have known each other since we were very young, before we knew the paths Fate would lead us to. But it's really not right for you coming to me to talk about your princess's future, especially behind said princess's back. I shouldn't know as much as I do, as it is."

Not that she wouldn't have known anyway. She was one of few (even among those with magic) who could see bonds, and even potential ones; that was even true for her own (possible) future match, though she knew he wasn't ready for that, not yet, and she was willing to wait, knowing it would be worth it. She'd seen the potential for a match-bond in the princess from the very first moment she laid eyes on the slip of a girl, days after her arrival to the palace. The spell-weaver also knew that for someone that young to show any signs of a future bond it showed something truly amazing indeed, a love that would leave its mark, not just in the ones to share it, but in everyone around them... the only princess of Alfheim and the youngest prince of Asgard (who had his own secrets, even if Thenidiel couldn't quite see them) being together would certainly send its own message across the realms.

"Just, give me something, anything." Erynion practically pleaded with her. "I don't know what to do anymore Thenidiel... whatever I do, no matter what I say, things will end up a mess, won't they? That much seems inevitable."

"Sometimes things are meant to be messy, if only so the right people will take notice." The she-elf commented. "But the crux of the matter is, Erynion, that whatever may need to be said and done, they aren't your choices to make."

Erynion knew that, deep down, he did. But he'd spent the last twenty years of his life protecting the princess, after the tragedy that was the Bloody Night he'd rebuilt the pieces of his life around her and his duty to her. He simply didn't know how not to get involved. Leaving her to her own decisions, her own mistakes, went against his every instinct.

"The princess needs to make a decision, between what's best for Alfheim, and what's best for her." Thenidiel revealed eventually.

"It's not possible." Erynion shook his head. "During all the years I've known her... she believes too much in her duty to Alfheim, to the people, to ever put herself above everyone else."

"Maybe." Thenidiel closed her eyes briefly. "If so, how could we ever trust someone to take care of us, when she cannot even take care of herself?"

In the end, it was an impossible choice; no matter what was decided, something would be lost. Erynion did not know if there was a way his princess, anyone really, could make such a choice without breaking into pieces...

**xXx**

As it turned out the young princess was more clever (and devious) than the Lord Protector would have ever believed. Imbolc came, the day after the princess's birthday (she'd gone missing the whole day and Erynion had been left excusing with everyone, saying the princess was nervous for the upcoming last test and would rather spend the day meditating in solitude...).

The last test was more elaborate than any before, it was also called the 'impossible decision' (which was actually kind of ironic, all things considered). Much like the previous one (with the trade deal) the princess was faced with a situation. In the last test it was a hypothetical one, yet also quite important, as it was one thing they all knew could happen one day. The situation: a group of princesses (the ones that would be taking their place as the new court the following year) had been taken hostage by a small group of invaders from another realms, Marauders they were always called. Their demand: for the 'Queen' to surrender herself to them.

It was always the same situation, and always the response was one of three: either the Mother Queen agreed to surrender herself for the safety of her court; she refused, letting them die; or she ordered a group of Protectors to go in and attempt a rescue, in which case it could go either way. The candidate's response had always been one of those three... but Lalaith had never been one to do what was expected of her, and she she did like a bit of chaos in her life.

The princess was left alone in the small room that connected to the one where the council stood, waiting for her to join them and present her decision and her reasoning behind it. They didn't expect it to take long, most had an idea of what she would decide... Which is why when, almost half an hour later, they'd heard nothing, some began worrying. It was Erynion who decided to step into the room, to find what he'd been fearing. Lalaith was not in the room; however, to the confusion of everyone but the Lord Protector himself, her shoes and dress were on a chair.

"What is going on here?" One of the Councilors demanded. "Where is our princess?"

Erynion had a very good idea, but he didn't dare say.

"Lady Santiel!" Another councilwoman called loudly.

Lady Santiel was the head of the coven in Alfheim and she'd been called to witness the tests during the last months. She knew instantly what was expected of her and with a simple touch the huge window on the room turning into a viewing glass, revealing the princess, and a situation none (except maybe Erynion) could have ever planned for.

Lalaith was in her under-dress, barefoot, her tight hairdo the only part of her 'formal attire' that she'd kept. She was crouched low on a branch, just outside one of the windows of the palace and, to everyone's further surprise, she was holding a bow; made of white-ash-wood, somewhat small, nothing like the elegant, tall, carefully-engraved recurve bows, or the even-more-elaborate scythian bows the Ljósálfar had gone to war with. It was more the kind that could be used for practice (or for a covert operation). And soon everyone realized that was exactly the point. The princess wasn't sacrificing herself, or anyone else, she was taking matters into her own hands.

"Does she even know how to use that?" Someone asked, no one paid any attention to who.

"War is not the business of a lady, much less a princess, or queen!" Another cried out.

It soon became obvious that, regardless of anyone's thoughts in the matter, the princess had made her choice, and she most certainly had the knowledge to back it up.

One by one the 'pretend Marauders' fell, to bolts on vital parts of the body, not a single shot missed. The arrows being used weren't real ones, but the fake ones the Order would have used if the princess had chosen to send them in.

The last tried to use one of the princesses as a shield, placing her in between him and the window the bolts had been coming from. A minute passed, and right as he opened his mouth to yell new demands, he suddenly felt a blade in the back of his neck.

"Let her go." A voice hissed in his ear. "Now!"

The 'Marauder' was reacting before he was even conscious of it. The moment his hold loosened Lalaith pulled on the girl's arm, directing her to move to where the others had gone.

"Now, drop your weapons." The princess ordered.

The elf tensed up noticeably. It was as if in that moment he'd completely forgotten that it was make-believe, just a test; all he could think about was that a girl had defeated them all, she might be their princess, but she was warrior, no girl ever was... The 'Marauder' spun around, wielding his knife in an arch, intending to hit the one behind him... only to meet empty air.

The princess saw what was coming just in time, dropping into a crouch to evade the attack, before using her leg to trip him up and make him fall. Before he had the chance to even try and get back to his feet, a hard hit from the bow on the back of the head knocked him out.

For a couple of seconds, nothing and then... the cheering started.

By the time Erynion and the council entered the room the young princesses had made their own mini-party to celebrate their savior and future queen.

It took a while, but eventually the girls returned to their studies and Lalaith went back to the Council Room (having put her dress and shoes back on).

What followed was the most intense interview/interrogation Lalaith had been through in her whole life (worse even than her first test). She had to explain that she'd been training in archery and some basic hand-to-hand since she was a little girl; she had no dreams about becoming a warrior, but she likewise wasn't going to allow herself to be defenseless if there was ever another attack like the one from the Bloody Night.

The council kept trying to chastise her, but she wasn't allowing them. The princess was being stubborn in a way they'd only seen her once, the day she had gone through with the first trade agreement with Vanaheim and Asgard.

"Look." She called, at the end. "My ladies, my lord..." She nodded at each of them calmly. "You may not like the things I've done, but regardless of what you might say to me, nothing will make me regret my decisions. I shall always stand by them, as well as by my most recent one."

Erynion watched her take a really deep breath and froze; he realized what was coming a fraction of a second before the first word left her mouth, and by then it was too late. All he could do was stand there and watch as she re-wrote her own destiny.

"I, Lalaith Mirloth, daughter of Lamirima, lady of Jewel Forest, princess of Alfheim and potential Mother Queen, of my own free will and with full understanding of my decision, hereby surrender any and all claims to the crown of our realm."

The shock was such no one seemed to know what to say.

"Why child?" The Head Elder eventually asked, full of concern. "Why do this?"

"Because a Queen cannot have a match, and a she-elf with a match cannot be Queen..." Lalaith said softly, yet full of purpose. "And I have found my match, honorable Elder..."

No one had anything to say to that, at all.

"So, you may tell the people of Alfheim that I've failed to follow traditions and cannot be your Queen." She went on. "Weather you focus on my combat abilities, or my match, it is still true."

"Are you sure, princess?" One couldn't help but ask. "Couldn't you be... confused?"

"No one can confuse a match with anything else." Lalaith reminded her kindly. "Especially not when it is an involuntary match." At the general gasp she elaborated. "We first met during Ostara, last year; though it was until the Summer Solstice that we acknowledged the growing connection. It took us a while longer to accept it existed and could not be denied, still that is the truth."

"The masked singer at the festival..." Lady Santiel murmured in realization.

"Yes, that was him." The princess nodded calmly.

They knew it was the masked singer from the festival, but not that it was Loki, not yet. That was good, she didn't believe it to be a good idea for them to know, yet; not until they got the chance to explain things personally to Loki's parents...

Silence reigned for several minutes, as Lalaith gave the sorceress and the Council of Elders a few moments to process everything. She didn't say anything to Erynion, just smiled sheepishly at him, mentally begging that he would understand why she'd chosen to do things the way she had. She knew he'd been worrying about her for a while, but it was time they acknowledged the truth. She couldn't be Mother Queen, not when she had a match, and she couldn't deny that match because doing so would destroy them both.

"I want you all to know I am very grateful, for everything you have all done for me in the last twenty years." She stated after what seemed like forever. "It's been the greatest pleasure serving Alfheim as its princess. I regret this needs to be done, but not why its necessary." She took off the tiara on her head, placing it carefully on the table before them. "It's been an honor my ladies, my Lord Protector. Namarië (Farewell)..."

And with that, she turned around and left the room, never once looking back.

**xXx**

Lalaith couldn't actually leave Alfheim until the next festival, in Ostara, when the announcement was made that no Queen would be crowned. Not much was said on that front, the Council having decided to simply say it was the will of the stars (and since the stars created the bonds, they were technically right).

The part that surprised the former-Queen-candidate most was when Alfheim insisted on having her keep her title as princess. She was given a tiara of dried flowers (jewel dried flowers, to be precise), for her to wear as symbol of her status (the court wore crowns of fresh flowers, none of them jewel ones).

The day after that, before the news of 'no-Queen' reached Asgard, Loki finally took Lalaith to Asgard to present her before his parents. The Allfather, his Queen and Prince Thor were actually together in the throne room, along with the Warriors Three, when Sif went to lead them in.

"Are you ready for this?" She asked them quietly.

"Not at all." Lalaith quipped with a half smile. "Lets do this."

Loki did not answer, simply guided his beloved. They went to stand before the thrones and bowed, before Loki's words sealed the deal:

"My family, and friends. I present to you, Lady Lalaith Mirloth of Alfheim, my match..."

* * *

><p>One of the longest chapters I've written. And so much had to happen... And yeah, they're together now, but the story is not over just yet. There's much that must be told yet, as you will see.<p>

This sidestory consists of three chapters, updates will be coming every other week, as my muse is currently giving me a hard time and, as you may or may not know, I am also working on another series (from the Hobbit fandom, a Bagginshield-centered series of short stories, in case you're interested). I hope that by the time I reach the end I'll have something for the AUs.

Describing Sif as 'golden haired' was no mistake. It's all been carefully planned, as you'll see in the following chapters.

As always, full sized poster and set of wallpapers are in my Deviant-Art account (Princess-Lalaith).


	2. Duet

After so long, here you will be getting my version of Odin for this verse. Those who've read Menel know I made him the ultimate bad-guy on that one, not so here. My headcannon for this verse is a bit strange, when it comes to Odin Allfather; but deep down I don't really believe he's evil per-say. You'll see most of it here, and the rest (how we ended up where we are) in the third and final chapter of this.

For the cast (hadn't done this before because I couldn't make up my mind in some points):

- Erynion: Hugo Weaving as Lord Elrond (for NoS imagine him younger, but that's how he'll look by Nexus's time).

- Ylva - Amanda Seyfried as Red Riding Hood (it's almost poetic!) She actually wasn't my first choice, and I know her hair isn't what most would consider 'platinum-blonde' but it's convenient in the end.

- Thenidiel - Cate Blanchet as Galadriel (same distinction as for Erynion applies).

- Amora - Rosamund Pike as Andromeda in Wrath of the Titans.

Finally, in this chapter we have in full the poem "Unending Love" by Rabindranath Tagore, which I'd alluded to in Nexus, as well as the following songs:

- Will Not Back Down by Alex Band

- When I Look at You by Miley Cyrus

- Hero by Erique Iglesias (and this time really sung by him).

With nothing more to say, on with the chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>Duet <strong>

Pain, that was all she knew, all Lalaith had known for weeks, ever since her dreams had turned to smoke. She felt as if her heart throbbed inside her chest with every beat, her soul shattered like glass; and to think she'd been so hopeful, so dreamy... When she and Loki had first left Alfheim through the Hidden Path to visit his parents in Asgard she'd been so excited. Finally, after all those months in hiding, she and Loki could finally walk openly side by side. And after everything he'd told her about his parents, she was dying to meet them. Things didn't quite go the way she'd imagined, in the end.

First there was finding out that Loki's parents weren't actually his birth-parents, but adopted ones. Normally she would have thought it made no difference; if anything it made things even more special, for Odin Allfather and Lady Frigg had chosen Loki as their son, as their family... except, it seemed that for the King it also meant more, but in a different way entirely. It meant he'd plans for Loki, plans Lalaith couldn't be allowed to ruin.

_It had been enough of a shock, for both of them, to find out that Loki wasn't born Odinson, he wasn't even Aesir, not really. He was quite sure the only reason his whole world hadn't crumbled at the revelation was the delicate hand holding onto him tightly, grounding him. _

"_I don't want you to think you're anything less than my son." Odin said, in an oddly heartfelt tone. "Because you are still that. It matters little that I did not sire you, or Frigg did not bore you, you are ours in every way that counts." _

"_Why tell me now?" Loki asked, suspicious. "Other than the fact that you should have told me years ago? I understand why it might have been a bad idea to tell me when I was a child, when everything I kept hearing was about how Jotun are nothing but monsters. Now I have the mind to realize there is always more to a person, and a race, than what others say about it, and at the very least I know I have people that won't turn their backs on me because of the true color of my skin or my eyes..." _

"_Never brother!" Thor agreed empathically. _

"_Then why tell me now?" The younger prince insisted. "Why turn my attention to this when the focus should be on the fact that I just told you I've found my soul-mate?" _

"_Remember, do you, what I told you when you and Thor were young children?" The King asked in what seemed like a rather odd non-sequitur. _

"_You said only one of us could ascend to the throne, but we were both born to the Kings." Loki paraphrased almost automatically, before doing a double take. "No, that's not possible. There's no way I could possibly be..." _

"_Your biological father is Laufey." Odin stated. "I found in the aftermath of the Ice War, a little newborn babe, abandoned in a temple, left to die..." _

_The prince could feel his beloved stiffening and moved to loosen her hold on him. He was sure she would be horrified, to learn he was the son of the monster who'd hurt her own realm so much, who'd ordered the attack where her beloved sister died... And yet, Lalaith refused to let go of him, she only held on tighter, unwilling to let him go. And it was that, beyond any worry about him being the son of that monster, she worried about how the revelation might make him feel. She could sense the void beginning to form inside her match, and hated that she knew not what to do, to say, to help him deal with things. _

"_And you chose to take me, to bring me here, make me your son, why?" Loki demanded. _

"_You were an innocent child, one who deserved better." The Allfather seemed to hesitate a few seconds before adding. "You were also my hope, and still are. My hope for peace with Jotunheim, for harmony throughout all the Realms." _

It had just snowballed from there. It seemed that, from the moment he'd adopted Loki, Odin Allfather had been planning on one day sending him back to Jotunheim, hopefully once Laufey was no longer around. Unlike Asgard, Jotunheim didn't make the first-born heir, but the strongest (it was pretty much how much Laufey managed to get, and keep, the throne). The plan was for Loki to go and either gain the loyalty and respect from the other two sons of Laufey or, in the worst case, kill them; taking the throne for himself.

Odin envisioned a future where Loki would rule Jotunheim and Thor Asgard, and having grown up as brothers the two would make sure there would be peace between their two realms, a peace that hopefully would extend through Yggdrasil. The only problem: Lalaith wasn't included.

It was a mix of things: Alfheim would never allow one of their own princesses to marry the King of Jotunheim, especially if it was revealed he was the son of Laufey; even if that weren't much of a problem, the best way for Loki to strengthen his hold on the throne, would be to marry a Jotun-lady, which once against left Lalaith out; and even if they could ignore the first two, there was no way of knowing if Lalaith could even survive in an environment like Jotunheim, though it was unlikely (even though Jewel Forest was the coldest province in her realm, it was nowhere near as cold as the endless winter of the frost giants).

At first Loki had coldly refused even the possibility of breaking off his relationship with Lalaith; but it hadn't been easy, Odin wasn't the kind to give up or forget his plans.

_One day the King had even gone to her, trying to convince her to break off the match herself, insisting she would see it was for Loki's own good. _

"_Is that all you can think of, my lord?" The young princess asked, in a mix of confusion and horror. "Your carefully-made plans? What about your son? What about his happiness, our happiness? Does that not matter?" _

"_My son is impulsive by nature, I know that." Odin said, avoiding her questions entirely. "But it was my hope that someone with your reputation would be more reasonable..." _

"_Love isn't a matter of reason Allfather!" She cried out, passion and emotion etched in every word. "Matters of the heart are not for the head to understand. And a match of souls... the stars know those are rare enough, and such a blessing... One that cannot be questioned, denied, or ignored. The Higher Powers have seen fit to grant your son and I this most amazing gift... and all you focus on is that it goes against what you believe is right, what you've been planning ever since you picked Loki up..." She shook her head. "Can you not see how fortunate he is, how fortunate we both are, to have found our match, Allfather?" _

"_It's not a real match." The King stated, emotionless. _

"_Not a real..." The elven-maiden couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Why would you say that?! Loki is my match and I am his!" She felt like crying, but refused to appear weak before him. "You think that you can make things not be real, when they do not adjust to your ideas of how they ought to be. And you know what the worst part is? That Loki loves you so much, he feels so much the Need to make you proud, that he will probably do what you want. And it will end up destroying us both!" _

"_If the match were real you wouldn't even be able to contemplate leaving the other..." _

"_We are a match, but we also have our own will. We write our own destiny, rather than allow fate to control us. And that means we might make mistakes once in a while. I made it once, when I refused to accept from the beginning that we were meant to be together. But I've seen the error of my ways... I hope you do the same, before you end up costing your youngest son his happiness, and possibly even his life." _

"_A strained match hasn't killed anyone in millennia." _

"_An involuntary match also hadn't formed in just as long." _

_The King shook his head, still holding onto his denial, and Lalaith chose not to insist, she knew there was no point. She'd been honest with him; even when she said she knew Loki would probably side with him and break-off their relationship eventually, not because he loved her any less, but because he'd been waiting his whole life for a chance to prove he was a worthy son, to prove himself better than Thor in some way, And there was his chance, his chance to be the son Odin was proud of, a true prince of Asgard, and one day a King, a chance to shine in a way Thor never would, because they weren't the same. And Lalaith... she loved Loki too much to get in the way of what he really wanted. _

It was the only thing she hadn't said to Odin. Loki would have hated the idea of hurting her, of pushing her away, especially after everything she'd given up to be with him, that it would have taken him forever to push her away for good. And there was a chance that they'd have done some irremediable damage to each other by then. So Lalaith decided to make things 'easier' (for a meaning of the word) on them both, and left herself, in the middle of the night, with no one to see her off or wish her farewell.

The only signal that she'd ever been in Asgard was a purple-pink tinted rose and a letter, and the hint of her perfume: roses, white-ash tree-bark and winter-rain.

In Alfheim she still had her estate in Jewel Forest, it had been returned to her after the council had made their mind regarding what would become of her. However, for the time being she was still living in the palace, as an unofficial member of the council as she helped with the final part of the training of the new sisterhood of princesses that would be officially taking their places during the next Ostara festival. She'd been especially asked to try and spot any potential future queen; though there didn't seem to be any.

Erynion had been surprised upon her return, particularly the fact that she'd been alone (most had expected her to return with her betrothed and had been practically ready to celebrate), but decided not to ask when seeing the carefully guarded expression on her face, the shadows in her eyes. He knew something had gone wrong, terribly wrong even; but since she seemed to be handling the separation better than the previous time, he did not push. Truth was she wasn't handling anything better, she wasn't handling it at all. Lalaith could still see her prince in her mind, could practically feel him in a corner of her soul at all times, and that allowed her to handle the physical separation; aside from that, she did her best not to think about it at all. A part of her still held hope, that one day he would realize their match was stronger than anything else, that one day he would choose her. Still, she wouldn't pressure him, in any way, the choice had to be his, otherwise it wouldn't mean anything...

"Will you come back?"A female voice asked her right then.

Lalaith actually started; she'd been so focused on her memories she'd practically forgotten all about the other person in the room: Sif.

"He does miss you, you know?" The asgardian asked softly.

"I know." Lalaith nodded with a sad smile. "I can feel it, every day."

"Why won't you come then?" Sif asked.

"I can't..." It took an effort for the she-elf to breathe in after she said that. "I know your intentions are good, Sif. You are a good friend to Loki, and to me as well. But I will not be an imposition. If Loki has decided to follow Odin's plans for him, I will not be in the way and if not... it has to be his own choice. I cannot make his choices for him..."

"But you're a match!" Sif insisted.

"I know that, we both do. What Loki needs to do is decide if that will be enough. Odin wants so badly for his plan to be put in practice... Loki might end up losing his father if he chooses me, and he knows that. If he were to choose me in an instant and then came to regret it, to grieve his loss more than he cherishes my love... I would never be able to forgive myself." A tear fell down her cheek. "I am not like my Nana, I have not the Sight. But from the first moment I laid eyes on Loki I knew he was special, there's something about him... he's important, someday he will leave his mark in the universe, and as much as I'd love to be by his side when he does it, he needs to make up his own mind."

"Won't it destroy you? Both of you? If he doesn't choose you?"

"I don't know. Under normal circumstances I would say no, we haven't sealed the bond, have made no vows, have hardly kissed even! But we did not initiate this bond, it started on its own, so I don't really know how bad things might get."

"So, you could end up killing yourselves..."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." She let out a breath. "I made a mistake before Sif, and he gave me the chance to make up for it. I owe him no less than that."

Sif shook her head, she still didn't understand how Lalaith could be willing to risk so much when it was so obvious they loved each other! Maybe it was because she had no match herself, she couldn't understand what it felt like to be in that position (though if it was going to make her as insane as the little elf was, Sif might be better staying on her own...)

Erynion met the Lady Sif after she left the princess's chambers.

"Any change?" He asked her without preamble.

"None at all." Sif answered honestly. "And I don't think there will be any, not right now."

"She's just so proud..." Erynion murmured in defeat.

"They both are." Sif agreed. "And... I think they're afraid."

"Afraid?" Erynion was confused by that. "Whatever of?"

"Of finding out just how strong their bond truly is." Sif told him quietly. "I mean... you saw how they were last year, and that was before they truly acknowledged there was connection. Now?" She shook her head. "I've heard things about bonds. About one half of it being lost and the other never being able to move on, for their soul keeps reaching out, trying to grasp its other half, as if not being able to comprehend it's no longer there. It's a void that can never be filled, like having a piece of the very abyss inside your heart. Some say that the remaining half of the bond hardly ever lives long after the other is lost. And if they do survive, they tend to go crazy, obsessed, self-destructive, unable to process living without their soul-mate..."

Erynion didn't say a word. Truth was, he had heard some of that; some even said it was worse for elves, who were already so connected to life, to their world, so empathic. And those were the consequences of a bond broken by death... but what about a bond broken by choice, by one half leaving the other? Would it be better of worse? He didn't know, didn't think he wanted to. All he could do was pray to the Norns and the Higher Powers that his princess would be alright in the end; that both she and the prince would be alright.

**xXx**

Odin Allfather was King of Asgard, had been for two thousand years, since his father, King Bor, chose to pass-on, leaving him the throne. Odin remembered much of the King he'd been, but very little of the father; it was one thing he'd learnt, how much Asgard needed a King. There was a reason he was called Allfather, the Aesir needed him to guard over them all, like a Father would their children; and in a lesser sense so did the rest of the realms. So he did, he did his best, even if by being the best Allfather he could, he was forced to become less of a Father to his own sons.

He'd understood the necessity of it, just like he understood Thor's constant need for attention (he knew that was the truth hidden behind his recklessness, his wild 'adventures'), it was normal. Loki, thankfully, was much more level-headed, more focused. From early childhood he'd been calm, attentive, obedient. While at times Odin would cringe at how even in details such as those his differences with Thor were evident, he also couldn't help but be thankful not to have two sons vying for his attention with crazy antics. Spirits knew Thor alone was bad enough! And at least Loki was, most of the time, able to keep things mostly under control.

The magic hadn't been exactly a surprise, Odin had never forgotten the way the blue babe's skin had shifted to alabaster, with the ease of the most experienced spell-weaver, or shape-shifter. It wasn't normal for men to take on duties like magic, as those were usually reserved for women; but Loki was so good, had done so many things to help others through the years (and he was still a prince) that in the end some things were just overlooked. Also, even if he wasn't all-brawn, he had the mind of a tactician, which could be much more valuable in a true battle, Odin knew.

Something he'd never failed to see was the way his two sons complimented each other. It made him wonder sometimes what would be of Asgard if the two were to rule over the realm, side by side... it was an exhilarating and terrifying thought at the same time. Also moot, since the plan was to have Loki as King of Jotunheim, not Asgard.

The plan... he knew his wife had never approved of it. From the very moment he'd placed the babe on her arms, and she'd guided him to her breast, fed him from her own milk, just like she did with Thor, a bond had been formed (and Odin knew it went beyond having fed him). Frigg loved the boy, had loved him from the very beginning. She'd never liked it, when he would speak of his plans for Loki, but she also respected her husband, her King, enough not to oppose him (at least in public). Odin knew that deep down she'd always hoped he would change his mind someday, that she wouldn't have to lose her son to the eternal winter of Jotunheim.

Odin would admit (if only to himself) that he never expected to care for the boy, to love him, as much as he did. At some point the Plan had become more of an excuse, a way to justify loving the son of his sworn enemy, justify taking him in and make him his own; something he knew his own father would have never approved. It was why it'd taken him as long as it did to finally tell Loki himself the truth... The boy was almost twenty years old already, when Odin should have told him by his fifteenth birthday at the very latest. But, deep down, Odin hadn't wanted to let him go, not yet (not ever).

And then came Lalaith Mirloth... the Allfather never saw her coming, he wondered if his wife had. Alfheim had been so closed off for years after the Ice War. It'd been surprising when the commerce treaties were agreed on; though in the end most saw those as something necessary. He, of course, had heard the rumors that it'd been the Princess's decision to go through with them, even when it was against Alfheim's traditions. He'd thought the girl was simply being objective and looking after her people; or maybe the rumor was made up to make her seem as more than she truly was. Alfheim trying to rebuild itself through its future Queen.

Except she truly was more... even if the Allfather couldn't actually decide if that was good or bad. A princess that had been so since age five... such a thing hadn't been seen anywhere in thousands of years, if ever (there were myths of course, of other times, beyond those in any official records, of realms beyond the reach of Yggdrasil). A princess that been such for twenty years, only to give it all up half a season before her coronation as queen, and all for what? Love? A whim? A chance at... something? A so-called match?

He still didn't believe that to be right, it couldn't be. Matches didn't happen out-of-nothing, didn't form just because (that was just a myth!). He and his Frigg were a match, of course, but that was not how they began; theirs was a marriage of convenience, initially, the bond came later. He knew how fortunate he was, that the Higher Powers had seen fit to allow him such a connection with his wife, it didn't happen with everyone. He knew there were those who would follow a courtship and wait until a bond began to form before formalizing a marriage; wait until they knew for sure they belonged together. But for a connection to form on its own... That was illogical! How could one bond with someone they don't even know? It might be the kind of things little girls liked to read about, fairy-tales, but real life was very different. He'd heard an old myth once: one they said was so old it wasn't even written down, just passed on from mouth to mouth: about a match that had followed each other through time and space, in life after life... It'd been his Mother's favorite story, said there was even a poem about it, though she could never remember it exactly. She believed that everyone in the universe was like that, perfect pairs going through life, looking for their other half, life after life; and maybe, just maybe, when they found one another, when they were finally whole, they'd finally get the chance to move on, to a better world, a higher existence. Or maybe the point wasn't that, maybe the point was finding one another, and together make their existence the best it could be... His mother had never made up her mind which possibility she liked more, which she believed in more. Odin didn't believe in either.

Bonds didn't form from nothing, and certainly not with people you knew next-to-nothing of! And even if such a thing were possible (if there was any truth to those myths), a match was the most binding of ties to exist in all the realms. It was undeniable as well as unbreakable (there was a reason why so few ever chose to finalize it, even when they knew the potential existed... not everyone was willing to be tied to one person for their whole lives, especially when the life was measured in thousands of years). Every year such bonds became more and more rare, couples choosing instead simply to live together without any magic or blessing binding them, 'as long as love shall last', some might say.

It was why he didn't really believe that the princess and his son were a match. It wasn't only that they had such a short time to know each other, but she'd once turned her back on him, if they were truly meant to be together such a thing wouldn't be possible. It wouldn't have been possible for her to actually leave Asgard and him either. Besides, the bond wasn't finalized, even if it'd really begun, if it'd really initiated on its own, like the two claimed, it wasn't truly binding until the vows were made, until the Higher Powers were called on for their blessing. And such a thing wouldn't happen with Lalaith gone...

Yes, the princess was gone, and Loki was fully committed to the path Odin had laid out for him from the beginning. All was as it should be... then why did he feel that everything was so wrong? He'd seen the looks from his wife and oldest son; neither Frigg nor Thor seemed to like what was going on, though neither actually called him on it. No, the biggest surprise was on who decided to point things out to him: Lady Sif...

"_He's breaking, my lord..." She'd told him, voice husky from feeling. "I know not how no one sees it, but ever so slowly, he's breaking. It's like he's loosing small pieces of himself, one by one. If this goes on much longer... one day he won't be Loki anymore. I know... I know you have plans, even if no one has seen fit to tell what those are, and Lalaith is so afraid of holding him back, and Loki wants so much for you to be proud of him..." She broke off briefly, then appeared to force herself to continue speaking. "I know it's not my place but... your Majesty, if you do nothing I fear we might lose them both!" _

Odin really hadn't liked hearing her say any of that, honestly had considered telling her off for her words; but there was something in them, in her, that made him take notice. She was honestly worried about Loki, she cared so much for him... there'd been a time when Odin had feared there would come to be something between the two of them, they were so close, had been since Loki brought the girl to Val, the head trainer for the army, to train her. The Allfather had feared that their friendship would turn into love and that would put his plan at risk... and yet someone else had come and done that very thing. Only, what right did he have to make plans for his son's future, as if he were one of the Norns, or the Higher Power? Midgardians might call him a god, but he knew he was not one.

Was the Lady Sif right? Did Loki really believe his father not to be proud of him already, to the point that he was hurting himself in an attempt to get it? And if that was true, how much else had he missed? He'd always believed that things were just fine with his youngest son, how could he have been so wrong? As much as he hated to admit when he made a mistake, in that moment he couldn't help but fear the warrior-lady might be right. And what if that was a mistake that made him lose his youngest son? That, beyond anything else, was what truly terrified him.

He hadn't wanted to believe it, refused to think much about it, until the moment he stood in the shadows, in a corner of his son's private garden, watching him.

Loki was kneeling in the middle of a patch of recently planted flowers, flowers that were not from their realm. No, they were much too simple, too plain for Asgard and yet, his wife had once said there was beauty in that simplicity. Roses, Frigg had called them. His son cared for those flowers, for whatever the reason, had added them to his garden in recent months, been working over them almost every day since... since the princess.

Suddenly, it was as if the final piece of the puzzle fell into place, and everything made sense. Not just the flowers, but even the expression in Loki's face. There was such melancholy, a shadow of grief, of loss... it was as if he'd lost someone, as if someone had died. And in that moment Odin couldn't help but wonder, had he really been that blind? How could he have missed that look in his son's eyes. Then he gave a step forward, into the light, and into the garden proper, he felt the moment he stepped into the territory, through a very light ward... and he could see the exact instant his son became aware of his presence: the way he flinched for only a fraction of a second, before his whole body straightened up, and his face went completely blank, eyes empty (like a void...) not the slightest hint of emotion anywhere on him.

When had his son learnt to do that? And why?

He remembered then piece by piece: His wife telling him what a sensitive boy Loki was; the child crying in the middle of the night; the Elders saying that the younger prince should be more like his brother; someone saying that royals must never show any emotions, any weakness (had that been him?) talks about wars, monsters, victory, glory... the bright-eyed child disappearing, becoming a solemn, serene-looking young man. Odin had always believed that Loki had simply grown up, matured? But had he? Or had he simply repressed himself? Had he been pushed to that by people never able, never willing, to understand him? Had he truly done that to his own son?

"Allfather..." Loki called right then solemnly. "My deepest apologies. I must have lost track of time. I hope I haven't caused you any inconvenience, making you come look for me. I am ready for today's lessons to begin at your convenience."

When had Loki begun calling him Allfather? When had the boy stopped seeing him as his Father and instead just as his King? It would seem that at some point his family had begun falling apart and he hadn't even noticed...

"_Being a King, but especially the King of Asgard, means being an Allfather, looking after all equally. And that is as much a privilege as it is a responsibility... and a sacrifice. A King must put aside all personal wishes to be what the People need. Not one person can be more important than the whole, ever..." _

He'd been taught that, it was one lesson he'd always taken to heart, following it dutifully through the years. Yet he'd never been told what to do when doing so meant destroying someone. At first he'd believed Sif to be exaggerating... or no, not really, he'd wanted to believe that, but deep down, inside he'd known she might be right. The question then was, was it already too late? Could anything be done to salvage his family, or at the very least his son's happiness? He prayed to the Higher Powers that the answer was yes...

**xXx**

It was the hour before dawn as Loki stood in the shadows beneath a huge tree, the last rays of starlight illuminating the crystal-like and almost-jewel-like blossoms around him. He was waiting, waiting for the right moment, the exact moment... and as he did he couldn't help but remember how he'd ended standing right there, that day:

_It hurt so much... ever since he'd woken up, mentally reaching for that corner of himself where he could always sense his beloved, only to find her gone... He hadn't believed it, even as he ran all the way to the Guest Wing and the room that had been assigned to her, even when he found the bed made and her things gone, not until he saw the letter placed neatly on the night-table, and the rose on top of it... _

_He hadn't even needed to read the letter (hadn't dared to, actually, until much later). She was gone, and it was all his fault. _

_He made a great effort to convince himself that it was better that way (after the denial was past). He wanted to make his father proud, it was what he'd always wanted... he was so different from the ideal Aesir, so different from Thor; and he finally knew why. But right when he could have fallen into despair at the idea of losing the only family he knew, there it was, what he'd always wanted: the chance to be the son his father had always wanted, make him proud. _

_So, in the end, Loki was doing it all for him, for Odin Allfather. He was staying away from the only woman he'd ever loved, his match, ignoring the sadness, the exhaustion, the void settling in his heart and soul more and more every day, telling himself it would all be worth it if his father could finally be proud of him. Nothing had ever terrified Loki more than the idea of his family ever regretting his existence, taking him in... _

_In the weeks since that day, since her leaving, the little garden had become Loki's safe-place. If he regretted one thing it was never getting the chance of showing the roses to his beloved, she loved such blossoms so! And those he'd gone all the way to Midgard to collect, they were the very best he could find. But they just hadn't been ready when he'd first taken her to Asgard, and then it'd been too late... _

_That day had been like practically any other, with him sitting amidst the blooming roses, touching them and remembering what it had felt like, having the beautiful she-elf in his arms, surrounded by such flowers. She spent so much time surrounded by roses that her very hair smelled of them. All of her smelled of roses, the ash-tree of her sanctuary and the cold-rain she never seemed to mind getting showered in. So, being there, surrounded by such a heavy reminder her, was both a comfort and a pain, one that at times seemed would go on forever... _

_And then, everything had changed, abruptly; as he'd felt an aura crossing into his garden, past the wards he'd raised to insure his privacy. The surprising part wasn't that one, not exactly, a handful of people knew that the garden existed, and it was the likeliest place where he could be found most of the time. And yet, in that moment it wasn't his mother looking for him, not even Thor or Sif, no, it was... _

"_Allfather..." He called right then, solemnly. "My deepest apologies. I must have lost track of time. I hope I haven't caused you any inconvenience, making you come look for me. I am ready for today's lessons to begin at your convenience." _

_The young prince flinched before he could stop himself, but almost immediately he forced himself to relax, body straightening up, banishing every sign of emotion from his body, his face. No one had noticed anything off with him thus far, and there was no reason to believe that would change anytime soon (if ever). At least not until he heard what his father had to say: _

"_I'm proud of you, my son..." _

_The words were so unexpected that Loki couldn't help but spin to a side, still on one knee, and stare at the older man in shock. He'd never heard such words coming from his father's mouth; but it wasn't even that, no, there was something in his voice, in the tone, in the very way the King held himself that spoke to Loki in a way nothing else ever had. Odin was acting... he was actually acting as a father, and Loki just couldn't understand... _

"_I've obviously done you a great disservice, if after all these years you did not know that." Odin went on. "I've always been proud of you my son, even if I haven't been good at showing it. You are my son Loki, blood matters little, because you're my son, as much as Thor is." _

"_I will never give you reason to regret taking me in." The words came out of the raven-haired's prince's mouth before he could stop them. _

"_Oh Loki..." Odin sighed, a mix of horror and exhaustion breaking through his facade of kingly serenity. "In all my years, most especially since taking the throne, I've done many things, a few of which I do regret, if I am honest with you. But if there is one thing I know I could never regret, it is you: taking you from that temple that day, bringing you here, making you my son..." _

"_I know I am not Thor..." _

"_No, you're not. And thank the Norns for that!" _

_Loki couldn't help himself, a weak chuckle escaped his lips at that. Still, the whole conversation was a bit surreal for him to believe it just yet. _

"_When I made the Plan..." Odin said seriously. "It wasn't just about peace. There was that, of course but... deep down, it was mostly an excuse. A way to justify, in my mind, what I'd done, for I knew it was one decision my father would have never condoned. And even after a thousand years on the throne, a part of me still felt like I had to justify my actions." _

"_It is a good plan." Loki stated neutrally, having no idea where the king was going with all that, he never spoke that much! "One I will be proud to carry on, Allfather." _

"_No." _

_A response, one single word, and Loki hadn't the slightest idea how to react. _

"_The plan is off." Odin elaborated. _

"_Wha... but..." Loki had never been so completely off-guard before, he didn't like it. "What about Jotunheim? What about the peace? Allfather..." _

"_Yes, I am the Allfather." Odin interrupted his son, a hand on the youth's shoulder. "I am the King of Asgard, your King..." He let ut a breath. "But... but this time I'm putting being a father, being Your Father, first." _

"_I... don't understand..." The prince admitted quietly. _

"_Jotunheim will be as the Norns have fated." Odin explained. "Maybe the day will come when there can be peace with them, perhaps when someone other than Laufey holds the throne. There will be time for that." _

"_Is it..." Loki forced himself to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Do you think I cannot do it? Do you not trust me?" _

"_Of course I do! Loki... I know that you could be the best king, given the chance. But being a King now, being the Allfather, I know the kind of sacrifice it is, and it's one sacrifice I wish I'd never pushed on you." _

"_It's no sacrifice..." Loki tried to say, though it sounded weak even to his own ears. _

"_Yes it is." Odin interrupted, touching his temple, just beside his eyes. "I had to make it once, and it is quite possible your brother will have to do the same one day, we shall see... but there's no need for you to do it. The Norns are giving you a chance Loki, one that very few are given, the gift of a match, a True One..." _

"_You said it wasn't real..." _

"_Like I said before, I've had regrets in my life..." He shook his head. "I knew a man once, many years ago, before I was King. I did not know his name, no one did, though he was addressed as Shadow-Walker. He said he'd come from very far away, the other side of the galaxy, and was looking for a place to be reborn in, a place of simple beauty and peace, where joy and laughter could be found anew..." _

"_A place to be reborn?" Loki asked, in disbelief. _

"_It's what he said." Odin nodded. "He said that he'd lost his mate recently to a great tragedy in another world, and only looking for the right place for their next life was keeping him sane before he went to join her. He'd spent many years looking for that place, a world without war and with plant-life, he said that was very important: flowers, for his mate." He closed his eyes briefly. "I told him about the Nine Realms, about all that could be found here, and he said he liked it. He gave me thanks, and then began murmuring." _

"_Murmuring?" The prince was intrigued. _

"_It was until he was halfway through the first verse that I realized I knew the poem. It was my Mother's favorite. About a match that follows each other through time and space, through life and death, forever..." _

_The emerald-eyed prince did not know what to say then, not about anything his father had just revealed, it just seemed like too much. And then Odin began speaking again, and all Loki could do was listen: _

"_I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…  
>In life after life, in age after age, forever.<br>My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,  
>That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,<br>In life after life, in age after age, forever."_

_"Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, its age-old pain,  
>Its ancient tale of being apart or together.<br>As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,  
>Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time:<br>You become an image of what is remembered forever."  
><em>

_"You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.  
>At the heart of time, love of one for another.<br>We have played along side millions of lovers, shared in the same  
>Shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell-<br>Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever."  
><em>

_"Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you  
>The love of all man's days both past and forever:<br>Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.  
>The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours<br>And the songs of every poet past and forever." _

_Silence reigned, and the sorcerer-prince almost felt like he could hear a ghostly voice over the A... his Father, whispering every word into his ear. There was such power in those words. _

"_The last words had just left his lips, when the Shadow Walker smiled at me, and then his body slowly turned to ash." The King added quietly. _

"_He turned to ash?!" Loki was beyond shocked by that. _

"_He'd explained it beforehand." Odin said solemnly. "He and his mate were so tightly bound together he should have died when she did... but the mere thought of them being reborn in that same world of war and despair, the idea that one or both might die without meeting again, it was enough to push him into surviving, if only long enough to find a better place for their next life." He closed his eyes briefly. "When he saw Asgard, and after all I said to him, he liked it. He said this would be a good world and then... it was as if the poem was his goodbye, a way to remember her, to remember their bond. And then he was gone, ashes spreading in the wind, nothing left of him but the memory in my head." _

"_And did they come back?" Loki couldn't help but ask. "Did you see the Walker and his mate?" _

"_I cannot say I have thus far." The Allfather said, contemplative. "Then again, there's no reason to believe I would necessarily know, if they had returned. I know not if they would remember anything beyond their bond to each other, if they would remember me. And even if they did, there is no reason to think they would let me know, let anyone know. It's a new life after all, a new chance for them, for their love." _

_The emerald-eyed prince nodded, considering things carefully. _

"_You said y... Grandmother had known the poem." He was still confused by that. _

"_I think she knew them, the two of them. It might have been that life, or another but... they were her favorite story. She truly believed their love had lasted for ages, and would continue to do so, to the end of time." _

"_But you do not believe that." _

"_I did not want to. A part of me still doesn't. But it's not because I don't believe in love, or that I do not trust you..." The King shook his head. "In all the years since I saw the Walker there was a lot I'd forgotten, including the exact wording of the poem. But there is one thing I shall never forget, and that's the void I could see in his eyes. As if he were empty inside, as if, without his mate, he did not truly exist." He shook his head. "The way he explained their match, it was absolute, something that had existed life after life..." _

"_An involuntary bond..." And suddenly, Loki understood. _

"_I never wanted to see that look in your eyes... except, you already have it." He let out a sound that in a lesser man might have been called an exhausted sigh, or even a sob. "You're losing yourself to the void my son... thankfully, she's not truly lost to you yet. Your love still has a chance. You still have a chance..." _

"_Father..." _

"_Go, son." Odin actually smiled at hearing Loki call him that again. "Go to Alfheim and bring back my daughter..." _

_The last thing the young prince heard before he allowed his magic (itching inside all along, but tightly held back until then) to teleport him out of the garden and back to his chambers, was a whispered reaffirmation of pride from his father. _

So there, he was, in the hour before dawn, standing in the shadows of the Jewel Forest in Alfheim and waiting for the right time to search for forgiveness.

"Shouldn't we be going in if you're here for her?" A voice asked from behind him.

Sif was there. She had been standing by his chambers, waiting to see him, to take him to get something to eat (he'd been known to forget a meal, or more, in the last few weeks). When she heard he was going to Alfheim she was all for going with him, and Loki agreed. It surprised even himself (as he was quite sure he wouldn't have been so accommodating if Thor had offered to go along), but Sif knew him, and knew Tinúviel, and more important than either of those, she knew the two of them, had seen the together.

"No, out here." Loki declared. "This is her home, more than the palace, and I shall not invade that without her express permission."

"And how do you expect to convince her to let you in after the last couple of months?" Sif couldn't help but ask, brow arched, intrigued.

"Why, the most traditional way!" Loki announced brightly, a hint of mischievousness beginning to take over the shadows in his eyes.

Sif had no idea what he meant by that, until she saw him step forward, green cotton tunic and black-leather breeches and boots reflecting the mix of the last rays of starlight and the first of the rising sun. And then words began to spill from his lips and rising loud and strong, a song...

"I let you down but I'll make it up to you somehow  
>In time you'll see it's true if my will is strong<br>And I know that as these days go on  
>You'll find I'll get to you if it's the last thing that I do".<p>

"Every step you take, I'll be a second behind  
>Every move you make, I'll be the thorn in your side<br>And know you can't fight this now  
>I will not back down..."<p>

"I'm the sky, the stars, the moon, the setting sun  
>I'm the feeling inside you when you're coming undone<br>You know you can't fight this now  
>I will not back down..."<p>

Lalaith had been standing by her bedroom window, looking at the sky changing as the sun rose, as was her tradition (something Loki knew very well), so she was right there to hear the song from the very first words, though it took her a little while to focus enough to open the doors and step out onto the balcony, surrounded by flowery vines covered in the crystal-jewel-like blossoms that gave their name to the forest, and in full view of Loki... with the ray of the rising sun giving her auburn hair many different shades of red, brown and more; like a mix of the earth, fire, spun-gold and liquid honey; and she was wearing her favorite dress, the color of her cherished roses.

"Some say I'm cruel but nobody knows what I feel for you  
>My love, you're the only one, yeah, do you understand?<br>I can't let you slip right through my hands, no,

My love, don't try and run, see in my eyes, you and I are one..."

"Every step you take, I'll be a second behind  
>Every move you make, I'll be the thorn in your side<br>And know you can't fight this now  
>I will not back down..."<p>

"I'm the sky, the stars, the moon, the setting sun  
>I'm the feeling inside you when you're coming undone<br>You know you can't fight this now  
>I will not back down, oh, will not back down..."<p>

"Every step you take, I'll be a second behind  
>Every move you make, I'll be the thorn in your side<br>And know you can't fight this now  
>Oooh..."<p>

In that moment Lalaith's eyes were, for the first time in what seemed almost like forever, once again shining with the light of the stars. As were Loki's, even as the song went on, growing louder, stronger, with every verse; it was no longer a matter of forgiveness, no, it was one of love, a declaration, a promise, a vow...

Sif wasn't the only one witnessing the moment, as ever so slowly others had stepped out of the nearby homes to see what was going on. The first being Erynion, who'd been in the princess's home, and could only watch the scene with a mix of hope, gratefulness and an odd exasperation (If that was how things went in the first year those two were together, the Lord Protector didn't even want to imagine what that might mean for the next hundred, or thousand years...)

"Yeah, ooh, every step you take, I'll be a second behind  
>Every move you make, I'll be the thorn in your side<br>And know you can't fight this now  
>I will not back down..."<p>

"I'm the sky, the stars, the moon, the setting sun  
>I'm the feeling inside you when you're coming undone<br>You know you can't fight this now  
>I will not back down...<br>No, I will not back down...  
>No, I will not back down."<p>

The moment the song was finished the she-elf ignored all witnesses, all possible norms of decorum and even common sense as she practically flung herself off the balcony and straight into her beloved's arms. Laughter echoing through the trees and making the crystal-like petals of the flowers around tinkle together like bells.

Loki caught her easily, holding her by the waist and spinning around with her as he allowed the joy the both of them felt at the reunion mirror in each other, creating a never-ending loop that had the two laughing like carefree children. At least until Lalaith cradled his face in her hands and lowered her head to his, claiming his lips with her own in the most passionate kiss they had shared until that moment.

It did not matter that it wasn't proper, that some of those witnessing the exchange (especially the elders of the town) would most likely be completely scandalized by their exchange. Nothing mattered in that moment except the two of them, their love and the connection that once again shone brightly between them.

That evening, when the Head of the Elder Council presented the princess so the celebrations for that year's Summer Solstice could begin, she did not step into the clearing alone, for beside her stood Prince Loki of Asgard, officially her betrothed as of that night.

**xXx**

Loki and Lalaith couldn't marry right away, much as they would have liked to. She'd made a commitment to see the training of the new court of princesses to the end. Loki also knew it would give them time for both Alfheim and Asgard to grow used to the idea of them being together (there had been no such inter-dimensional unions in many years).

The weeks passed then, and the months. At first it wasn't easy, Asgard didn't know what to do with a princess not of their own people; but with not only the King and Queen, but also Prince Thor, Lady Sif and many others backing them up, ever so slowly the Aesir came to accept her (Loki was also convinced Tinúviel was simply too lovable for anyone to resist her for long).

Alfheim had presented its own difficulties. For some it wasn't easy, to accept that after twenty years of Lalaith being their princess she would never be their Queen. Having placed all their hopes on her, only to lose them later, and her. And yet, the Ljósálfar were also a race that deeply believed in the power of the Stars (as medium of the Higher Power), and since a match was believed to be created by the stars... That meant the stars had chosen for their princess and the Aesir Prince to be together, and that was a good thing, a blessing...

Eventually Ostara came, a dozen girls becoming the new Sisterhood of princesses. Lalaith personally presented them with their crowns, Loki by her side at all times. That very night she was also officially given the title as Princess-Ambassador of Alfheim (since she would be living in Asgard after her marriage), a title that was corroborated by both Loki and Lord Frey (in the name of Odin Allfather).

Finally, six weeks later, the ceremony took place.

With the bride being a Ljósálfar the first part of the ceremony took place in Alfheim. With both Lalaith and Loki being so public figures they both knew there was no way they would be getting a private wedding, but Loki still insisted on respecting Alfheim's traditions. So, after sunset on Beltane (a date meant to symbolize love and passion and flowers) (after the usual festival had ended) Loki and Lalaith walked to the altar where Lady Santiel lead the ceremony that would unite them; with Thor and Sif standing by Loki, while Erynion and Thenidiel stood by Lalaith. The full court of princesses and council of elders of Alfheim were also present, all with their best wishes for their princess. Odin Allfather and his Queen witnessed and gave their support to the ceremony as well, though they did not participate directly in it.

Most of it was a traditional hand-fasting ceremony. A purification of the altar through the four elements, followed by a call to the Stars, asking for their blessing on that day. Words of wisdom were shared, as well as rings (made of mithril, in the formed of a circle of ceremonial knots, meant to symbolize their bond, the way it had no actual beginning or end, as well as the way their souls and lives would be forever entwined from that day on) and eventually they got to the vows; where the true surprise laid:

"While certain vows have long been tradition in Alfheim, tonight, our bride and groom have asked for the opportunity to use a variant of them." Lady Santiel stated serenely. "Vows that too belong to our traditions, though they are seldom used..."

That should have been enough to tell everyone present that the couple was about to do something absolutely insane (and if not that, the mischievous glint in Loki's eyes should have given them away instantly), and yet, it wasn't.

Hands still bound with the colorful pieces of rope (which had been handmade by the people closest to the couple and blessed by the coven) and holding onto each other, right to right and left to left, Loki and Lalaith looked straight into each other's eyes. He was the first to speak:

"From this day on, you will be my only one. I shall look at no other the way I look at you, I shall think of no other the way I think about you, I shall talk to no other the way I talk to you, I shall desire no other the way I desire you, and I shall lay with no other the way I lay with you. I shall be with no other for you are now and forever shall be my one and only; my friend, my lover, my partner, my match…"

The she-elf pronounced her part before the shock of the exact words used and the implications cleared enough to allow anyone to respond:

"From this day on, you will be my only one. I shall look at no other the way I look at you, I shall think of no other the way I think about you, I shall talk to no other the way I talk to you, I shall desire no other the way I desire you, and I shall lay with no other the way I lay with you. I shall be with no other for you are now and forever shall be my one and only; my friend, my lover, my partner, my match…"

Lalaith was no sorceress, she'd never been; and yet, even she could feel the moment her soul and Loki's connected fully, as it'd always been meant to. The strain inside her seemed to vanish, finally. It was as if the two of them had been standing for what had felt like forever, face to face, but with a mirror making it impossible for them to truly be together, and in that moment, as the vows were pronounced, the mirror shattered, allowing their auras to touch, two souls to become one, as it was always meant to be:

"Heart to thee, Soul to thee, Body to thee, Forever and always, So mote it be..."

"So mote it be." Lady Santiel sealed the vows, a hint of delight in her usually emotionless eyes.

"So mote it be." Erynion, Thenidiel, Thor and Sif chorused.

Their reactions were mixed up: Thor had no idea what was going on, and just said the words he'd been instructed to (he was very happy to be part of his brother's wedding); Sif was another who didn't quite know what everything in the ceremony meant, though she could tell that something had happened that would have consequences (she knew the look in her friend's eyes); Erynion had almost face-palmed, knowing exactly what was going on and unable to stop from thinking that his 'little sister' was absolutely insane; Thenidiel only smiled, she'd seen it coming, all of it, from the very moment the bride and groom first laid eyes on each other, possibly even before...

It looked like Odin Allfather might have had a thing or two (or more) to say to his son regarding his choice of vows. He knew exactly what those vows were, what they meant, Loki had just tied himself irrevocably to the elven princess; and not even for one life either, no, those vows call for a bond to the end of time, a joining in lifetime after lifetime... A hand of his wife, his match, on his arm stopped him. No words needed to be said. Their son had made his choice, and all they could do was stand by him, as parents were supposed to.

A feast followed the ceremony, the best foods Alfheim had to offer. Then, when most would have expected the dancing and drinking to begin, something else came instead:

"Music has always been the language of the Ljósálfar." Erynion, who was acting as 'brother of the bride' called. "It is how we express ourselves, how we show our grief, our joy, our love... therefore, it is only proper for a day like today to be celebrated in song..."

Lalaith smiled as she stood from her chair in the main table. She was dressed in a beautiful white gown, simple in comparison with the dresses she'd worn in her twenty years as princess, and for that very reason, much more to her liking. The bodice was figure hugging, the skirt just loose enough to be easy to walk in and with a foot long train; the neckline was round and a bit low (though nothing improper), it was held up by double straps in the same white but made to look like tiny blossoms adorning her shoulders, loose semi-translucent, half-opened, long sleeves covering her arms. She had no jewelry on her except for her wedding ring. Her hair was down, for the first time in many, many years she wasn't wearing a tiara,instead there were tiny jewel-blossoms woven into her thick auburn curls beautifully.

Music began then, piano (everything had been prepared beforehand for that song). A soft, tender smile settled on Lalaith's face as she closed her eyes and began to sing:

"Everybody needs inspiration  
>Everybody needs a song<br>A beautiful melody, when the night's so long  
>'Cause there is no guarantee, that this life is easy..."<p>

"When my world is falling apart  
>When there's no light to break up the dark<br>That's when I, I, I look at you"

"When the waves are flooding the shore  
>And I can't find my way home anymore<br>That's when I, I, I look at you"

The elven princess didn't even need to think about it, in the exact moment she spun to the side, opening her eyes to stare straight at her beloved. The song was for him. Even if everyone present was getting to hear it, deep down, it was all for him. The greatest expression of her love for him.

"When I look at you,

I see forgiveness, I see the truth  
>You love me for who I am like the stars hold the moon<br>Right there where they belong and I know I'm not alone"

"When my world is falling apart  
>When there's no light to break up the dark<br>That's when I, I, I look at you"

"When the waves are flooding the shore  
>And I can't find my way home anymore<br>That's when I, I, I look at you"

Loki did not say a word, he just held one of his beloved's hands in his, feeling almost completely overwhelmed by the depth of her love for him, which reached him through the bright new bonds they'd formed through their vows. There were people in his life he held dear, like his mother, his brother, even his father... but never before had he loved anyone like he did Lalaith, his Tinúviel; never before could he have imagined someone loving him as much as he knew she loved him. A love he would never doubt, for he could feel it in every inch of his heart and soul, it was a part of him, as much as every inch of his body, as much as every inch of hers... for they were one.

"You appear just like a dream to me  
>Just like kaleidoscope colors that cover me<br>All I need, every breath that I breathe  
>Don't you know, you're beautiful..."<p>

"When the waves are flooding the shore  
>And I can't find my way home anymore<br>That's when I, I, I look at you  
>I look at you...<p>

You appear just like a dream to me..."

Loki smiled brightly at his bride, kissing the back of each of her hands briefly before rising to her feet and kissing her tenderly on the lips. He'd heard her sing before, but never a song such as that one, and to think every word was dedicated to him... it was almost more than he could take.

"Truly, the most beautiful voice in all the Realms, my Tinúviel..." He murmured fondly.

Lalaith's smile only got wider, she truly loved it when her beloved called her by that name, not because of what it meant literally (or not only because of that) but because it showed how much he cared, not just for her voice, but for her.

After a few seconds more the princess went to take a seat again, only to be stopped by her groom, a hand to her arm.

"Not just yet." Loki told her in a whisper, a half smirk on his face. "I believe it is my turn..."

Lalaith didn't know what to say. While it was true that an exchange of songs from the bride and groom was an important part of elven tradition where it came to weddings, Loki was no Ljósálfar, a fact no one was ignorant of (even if everyone but the royal family still believed him to be Aesir). Her beloved had sung for her before, of course, and quite publicly, but neither his bride nor anyone else had been truly expecting him to have a song ready for the wedding; except, apparently, he did.

"Trust me..." He whispered quietly into her hair.

And how could she not? Lalaith loved him so much; and the idea of completing a part of the wedding that was so important to light-elves like she. It was like a dream come true.

The musicians weren't ready for anything, but there was no need for it either, a simple spell from Loki was enough to get the melody going (like what he'd done for his princess back in Samhain, when they'd been a new match still).

"Let me be your hero..." Her beloved whispered into her hair, so quietly that for a moment she wasn't sure he'd heard him right; and then the song truly began:

"Would you dance  
>If I asked you to dance?<br>Would you run  
>And never look back?<br>Would you cry  
>If you saw me crying?<br>And would you save my soul, tonight?"

"Would you tremble  
>If I touched your lips?<br>Would you laugh?  
>Oh please tell me this.<br>Now would you die  
>For the one you loved?<br>Hold me in your arms, tonight."

"I can be your hero, baby.  
>I can kiss away the pain.<br>I will stand by you forever.  
>You can take my breath away."<p>

Lalaith was completely breathless, the emotions filling her so strong, like nothing she'd felt before in her twenty-six years of living. Loki had sung to her before, had expressed his love in such a way, and yet, there was something about that song, something about hearing such things from his lips, and during their wedding of all times. She could almost think she was falling even more in love with him with every word of care and devotion that came from his lips, with every ripple of feeling running down the shiny new bonds uniting the two of them.

"Would you swear  
>That you'll always be mine?<br>Or would you lie?  
>Would you run and hide?<br>Am I in too deep?  
>Have I lost my mind?<br>I don't care...

You're here tonight."  
>"I can be your hero, baby.<br>I can kiss away the pain.  
>I will stand by you forever.<br>You can take my breath away."

Music followed the second chorus and to Lalaith's, and everyone else's surprise, Loki took the moment to take her by the hand and pull her to the middle of the meadow, where he began dancing with her. After several seconds Loki twirled his bride elegantly, before pulling her tight against his body, the two fitting together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle, before continuing the song, still smiling and swaying together to the rhythm of the melody.

"Oh, I just want to hold you.  
>I just want to hold you, oh, yeah.<br>Am I in too deep?  
>Have I lost my mind?<br>Well, I don't care...  
>You're here tonight."<p>

"I can be your hero, baby.  
>I can kiss away the pain, oh, yeah.<br>I will stand by you forever.  
>You can take my breath away."<p>

"I can be your hero.  
>I can kiss away the pain.<br>And I will stand by you forever.  
>You can take my breath away.<br>You can take my breath away.  
>I can be your hero."<p>

Lalaith embraced her groom tightly the moment the last word passed his lips, kissing her with such abandon, like none had witnessed (and could have never imagined) from her.

"Callo amin (Hero mine)..." She breathed into him.

"Tinúviel amin (My Nightingale)..." He responded, before kissing her again.

Perhaps it wasn't proper, public displays of affection weren't exactly the norm, in either of their realms, though Ljósálfar were especially private creatures... and yet, in such a day it was accepted for what it represented. There was no doubt how much Loki and Lalaith loved each other...

The celebration went on until the moon was high on the sky when, after a toast from the people standing by them, the couple was sent away for their wedding night, for which Loki teleported them all the way to Lalaith's home in Jewel Forest (both because it was more private and because it was home, more than the palace would ever be).

The following day the festivities continued in Asgard, where Odin Allfather blessed the union, before officially naming Tinúviel (she'd chosen to keep the name Loki had given her and make it official) as princess of Asgard.

**xXx**

For the honeymoon Loki took his Tinúviel to Midgard, a realm he so loved... no one in his family understood it, why he kept going to a realm that most saw as 'inferior'. Inhabited by mortals, so far behind the technologies of other realms, same with their customs for the most part; people whose lives were so short as to be of little notice to beings whose existence was measured in thousands of years. But it was beautiful, a mix of landscapes that couldn't be found anywhere else: forests as beautiful as those from Alfheim, planes as vast as those of Vanaheim, and even mountains as imposing as those from Nidavellir...

Yet, even with all that beauty, not a single member of Loki's family had been able to understand thus far what it was he loved so much about the realm. No one, until Tinúviel.

"It's the chaos..." She said at some point. "It's true that human lives are short, and for that very reason, things are always changing around here. Humans want to do so much with the short years they have, that they push themselves, further, faster, harder... never stopping until death claims them. So much activity, it's all chaos..."

"Exactly..." Loki smiled brightly.

Never before had someone understood him the way she did. It was... dazzling.

Eventually the pair made it to Egypt (after traveling through most of Europe and half of Asia), where Loki took his wife to meet a couple of friends (he'd been visiting the realm often enough to have made a handful of those). They were a couple a distant relatives of the ruler of that particular kingdom, called Kontar, with dark skin, short blonde hair (lightened by the sun) and sky-blue eyes; and his wife: Sharifa, with caramel skin, perfectly straight, long, black hair and eyes of pale green. They were a striking pair, And knew enough of Loki to call him by his real name rather than Serrure (the alias he used in all the other places they'd visit... her he would call Rossi).

"You know, you're the first person Serrure brings along when he visits us." Sharifa told Tinúviel in a conspiratorial tone one day, calling him by his alias for safety. "I've seen someone else, once or twice, a tall, imposing woman with golden hair..."

"Si...a" Tinúviel blurted out the first alias she could think of.

"Sia... is she related to either of you?" Sharifa inquired, curious.

"She's a very good friend to both, though she's known Serrure longer." The she-elf told her. "At times they act like siblings."

"That's nice." The Egyptian lady declared. "Kontar and I are both only children, and the rest of his family... well, they aren't exactly the caring type." She shook her head and sighed. "It can get lonely sometimes."

"I know what you mean." Tinúviel nodded. "I lost my sister when I was five, my mother shortly afterwards, and while I had someone I loved like a brother, at times it felt like he only saw my title rather than my name..."

"It's the same with Kontar." Sharifa agreed. "Everyone is always focusing on his lineage, the fact that he's the only descendant of the ancient prince Khufu and his consort Lady Chay-Ara... who supposedly were these great heroes during the time of Ramses II... it's like they're expecting Kontar to be him, like the second-coming of their hero or something, rather than just Kontar." She shook her head again. "Did you know that he didn't ask me to marry him for the longest time because he was afraid what would become of me living this life?"

"It cannot be easy." Tinúviel pointed out. "But love makes everything worth it."

"That it does." The human agreed whole-heartedly, then added in a happier tone. "I'm actually quite-sure that it was Serrure's fault that we finally got together, you know?"

"It would be like him." Tinúviel smiled too.

Truth was she knew the answer was yes, as well as what exactly her husband had done to get them together. It'd been part mischief, part a genuine desire to see his friend happy. Loki couldn't help but see how short his friend's life was, and the idea of him pinning for his lady forever when he could have her by his side just didn't seem right. Then there was the fact that Egypt wasn't exactly the most peaceful of places to live, what if Kontar had taken too long and either him or Sharifa had died before they got the chance to be together? It was the same reasoning he'd used (with himself) when choosing to jump straight into his blooming bond with his own beloved just three months after first laying eyes on her.

Eventually they had to leave, go back to Asgard, to their lives; though Loki promised they would go back to visit again as soon and as often as their duties allowed them to.

**xXx**

Days passed, weeks, years, and soon Loki and Tinúviel had found their new normal. After finding out how unappreciated Loki felt, the Allfather had taken to giving him more responsibilities, especially when it came to diplomatic events; with Tinúviel being officially known as Alfheim's Ambassador (and princess still for them too!) the two held power in very similar ways; together they achieved great things.

The only problem that came up every so often were the Enchantress sisters: Amora and Lorelei. The oldest was about Thor's age, blonde, with perfect sun-kissed skin and deep blue eyes; the younger was auburn haired, lightly tanned skin and equally blue eyes. The two had quite the raw talent for magic and had managed to convince Loki to teach them some things when he was younger... until he realized that Amora was just using him to get to Thor, trying to seduce him. That had made him send both away, forbidding their entrance into the palace when they refused to stay away... and it'd gone from there.

Every so often Loki (and Tinúviel) had to deal with some mess caused by one or both sisters. Thus far it'd been simple, harmless stuff, but the she-elf honestly feared the moment when the balance might be tipped and someone truly ended up hurt. While Thor was the object of Amora's interest (and obsession), the fact that her beloved kept blocking her made him a target, and the princess really did not like that.

Still, not everything was bad, or even things to necessarily be worried about. Shortly after their return from the (long) honeymoon, Loki took his wife and introduced her to three creatures he held dear in his heart. They weren't the kind of beings most would have expected, but still.

The first was Sleipnir, the eight-legged golden stallion. As Loki explained to her, the steed had been sired by Svaldilfari, another legendary horse, and birthed by Loki's favorite mare back when he was a child. The mare had apparently been pregnant with twins, which wasn't normal, or easy, one of the foals had died before the birth even began. The mare herself died in the birth and Loki (still very young and inexperienced back then) had resorted to using magic in an attempt to save the remaining foal. He managed, but as a secondary effect of the magic used, the dead-twin's limbs had fused with him (thus an eight-legged horse).

Most people in Asgard saw the animal as a freak or an abomination; truth was that he was a very gentle creature, and the fastest horse Tinúviel had seen in her life. He was also so strong that few could (or even dared) ride him, among which were, of course: Odin and Loki.

The second such creature was the sea-serpent Jormungandr. As Loki explained it, Jor had existed since the beginning of time, since before Yggdrasil had separated in Nine Realms. Back then the world had been huge and a good fit for a creature such as him; until the Realms came to be as they were, and Jor was simply too big for anywhere except the depths of the ocean in Midgard. It was a lonely existence, which was why Loki would visit him every so often.

And finally there was Fenrir (also known as Fenris Wolf). Loki was quite sure the being had not been born in Asgard, but was the last survivor of some lost race. He'd read myths of individuals with the power to change forms, commonly referred to as shape-shifters or skin-walkers. Some could take the shape of any animal, though most seemed to be restricted to only one (like Fenrir himself could only take the form of a wolf). There was no way to know how he'd come to be in Asgard, as his first memories were of the forests there, nothing before.

Loki had found Fenrir when he was still pretty much a pup and did his best to look after him and raise him in secrecy, deep in the forest. When they'd discovered Fenrir wasn't just a wolf but could adopt a humanoid form Loki had taught him meditation and whatever else he could think of that might help Fenrir's focus and his proficiency at changing at will. It'd worked. Eventually Fenrir had come to see Loki as something of a mentor, or a father; the only the wolf had known. Tinúviel didn't mind, or when Fenrir extended the same sentiment to her, as a sort-of-mother; she felt pretty honored, in fact (even if she hadn't the slightest idea of how to be a mother).

All in all, things seemed to be going pretty well for everyone in Asgard, and the Realms in general. And then Amora decided to attempt to gain Thor's attention, again.

It was a few years after Loki and Tinúviel's wedding. The blonde sorceress seemed to decide that if the younger Asgardian Prince had settled down, there was no reason for Thor not to do the same. She attempted to seduce him several times, during a number of feasts and festivals, yet nothing worked; mostly thanks to Tinúviel. While she wasn't a spell-weaver herself, every Ljósálfar had a degree of empathy, it was natural; thanks to it the she-elf could tell what Amora's intentions were, and could easily use that to track down the sorceress no matter what disguise she tried to use to approach Thor.

The most important one was during the Eihenjar feast one year. They were celebrating the newest addition to the ranks of the valkyries, a lady called Ylva, with platinum hair and odd cat-like amber eyes who fought with a viciousness that made it obvious she lived and breathed war during her lifetime (it was probably what had earned her a place in Valhalla before the Norns had chosen to send her to Asgard).

It was ironic, because Amora wasn't hiding that hard, her blonde hair and blue eyes the same as always, in a long (somewhat conservative) red gown. Most people thought nothing of her, seeing just another wench trying to get in the prince's bed (it happened often enough, and most of the time the thunderer didn't seem to mind much). That was until a feeling of wrongness overcame Tinúviel abruptly. It was so sudden she stopped mid-dance, something her husband noticed.

"A'maelamin (My beloved)..." Loki called her by his favorite elvish endearment. "What is wrong? You've gone pale..."

"Otorno (sworn-brother) is in danger..." In her consternation, the princess couldn't help but revert to her mother-tongue.

Loki didn't ask how she knew, if she was sure, no question, no hesitation; he simply held her hand tightly in his before moving rapidly between the people on the dance-floor, using his magic to track down his brother.

They found Thor at the bar, openly staring at the woman flirting with him, even as he raised his goblet of mead, about to take a drink.

"Ala (Do not)!" The she-elf cried out, half-panicked.

Loki did not stop to give explanations and, completely ignoring his brother's confusion (and mid-annoyance at being interrupted) and the sudden tension from the woman in the red dress he tore the goblet from his brother's hands, before casting a spell on it.

"Brother!" Thor finally called out, loudly. "Why must you always waste good mead?!"

For a moment Loki did not answer, eyes fixed on the pink-tinted smoke coming from the goblet. The result of the detecting-spell he'd cast. After confirming his suspicions he proceeded to send the contents of the goblet away for later in-depth study, and possibly to be used against the creator of the potion in question, before finally turning to his older brother.

"This time you will thank me, brother." He stated with a seriousness people seldom saw in him since his marriage to Tinúviel. "I must inform you, Thor, that someone just attempted to drug you with Amortentia..."

"Amorten..." Thor had no idea what Loki spoke of.

"Love potion." Loki clarified, stoic.

"Wha..." Thor's eyes widened in shock. "Who would dare...?"

"Why... the Lady Amora!" Tinúviel snapped, waving her hand at the lady in the red dress.

By that point they'd managed to call the attention of practically everyone in the room. Things only escalated from there. The revealed Amora made to attack Tinúviel, reaching a hand out with every intention to gouge the princess's eyes out, she only managed to nick her temple slightly before Loki pulled his wife back. And even with just that the prince would have retaliated in a most violent manner if it weren't because the guest of honor of the night chose that moment to take the offender down fast and hard.

That was supposed to be the end of it. Instead, it was only the beginning. That night Amora was sent to the dungeons, yet she didn't stay long, days later she was gone from her cell, as were a number of the prisoners, as well as every guard that had been in service at the time. No one knew what had happened exactly, though they all suspected it could be nothing good.

For days all anyone could do was wait, even if they knew not what for. And then... it finally happened: a revolt in the South District of Asgard. Big enough that the royal guard was called in. Odin decided to send Thor to lead them (as crown prince he needed to put himself out there, show the people he was a good prince and cared for them) and Loki decided to tag along, to help his brother... just in case.

Sif was all for going, like the Warriors Three were, and the brothers; but Loki asked her to stay behind to look after his wife... he had a bad feeling. Sif rolled her eyes, not liking the fact that she had to stay (she had a hard enough time getting people to respect her as a warrior), and yet, she cared for Loki and Tinúviel both, and so agreed.

For almost half a day, nothing happened and then, right as Sif was beginning to complain about having to miss all the fun, it happened. There was a huge crash, and before anyone could cry out a warning, a battle was taking place. They were caught completely by surprise, outside the palace and away from the emergency shield. Sif and Tinúviel had been burning some time practicing her archery skills (she had a beautiful elven bow that Erynion had commissioned just for her and gifted her on her wedding). It was odd for Aesir to see their princess practicing combat, but she'd long ago promised herself to never be weak, never be defenseless, like all the other elvel-princesses had been, like her princess had been, on the Bloody Night.

Sif got Tinúviel to stay close as the two ran across the courtyard in the direction of the palace. The main fight was taking place elsewhere so there was no reason to believe they would be in danger... until it happened.

Sif stopped her running so suddenly Tinúviel couldn't help but crash against her back, almost falling down at the impact. Then, when looking around her friend she could see the reason: Amora was there, in full battle attire, looking completely murderous.

"It's your fault!" She shrieked at the princess, in a voice high enough to break glass. "I should be Thor's wife! I should be princess! No one will ever love him like I do!"

"You do not love Thor Amora, you're just obsessed." Sif deadpanned.

"I did not ask you, bitch!" Amora snapped at her.

"Wha...?!" Sif really did not like that.

However, Amora was prepared for her, with a wave of her hand Sif went flying to a side, crashing against a column and ending half-unconscious.

"Sif!" Tinúviel cried out in panic.

"Do not move..." Amora snarled in her direction.

When the elven princess turned back to the enchantress, there was madness in those blue eyes, and not only that, with a wave of her hand what looked like a hundred glass blades appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Amora..." The princess began, trying to think of someway to calm down the other woman, yet nothing came to mind.

"Shut up!" The enchantress wailed. "It's all your fault! I'll kill you!"

There was nothing Tinúviel could do, before she could think of anything, the conjured blades were flying straight at her, fast. All the she-elf could do was brace herself, hoping against hope that she would survive what was coming and then... impact. Except it wasn't from the blades... it was Sif. The golden-haired warrior-lady dashed to Tinúviel's side just in time, using her own body as a shield.

An involuntary scream abandoned Sif's lips, a cry capable of freezing the blood in anyone's veins. Tears began falling down Tinúviel's cheeks, at the pain she knew her friend to be in. And even then Sif held on, not willing to let her friend be hurt...

Eventually the attack ended. Sif could no longer hold on and collapsed, and in trying to hold her up, Tinúviel dropped to her knees at the same time.

"Sif..." The princess called hoarsely, not knowing what else to say, or do.

Amora's livid shriek called the two women's attention back to her. She'd used a lot of energy summoning those blades, only to fail in her purpose.

Sif made an attempt to stand up, but the damage to her body was too much, the pain too high, she couldn't get back on her feet.

"It'll be alright..." Tinúviel whispered to her with sudden conviction. "I'll protect you now Sif, mellonamin (my friend)..."

"Ti...núv...i..." Sif gasped, in too much pain to talk much.

The she-elf did not even think about it; after carefully settling her friend down on the floor, she got on her feet, even as she held her bow tightly with her left hand, drawing a white-feathered arrow with her right.

"You are going to fight me?!" Amora mocked.

Tinúviel did not answer her, she simply pulled on her bow, and let the arrow fly. The Enchantress was so insane by that point she wasn't really thinking anymore; even when she watched the arrow fly at her she did not move, allowing the bolt to cut the side of her face. The pain, at least, was enough to make her react, shrieking again.

Immediately the elf was reaching for another arrow, even as she feared she might not be able to notch it before Amora attacked. In the end, it was not necessary, before either of them were ready for their next move a figure was over Amora, taking her down. It was Ylva, and she was even more vicious that she'd been before.

"Tinúviel!" A voice called in panic.

The princess was so far into the shock that she didn't really hear her match as he called to her, not even when he finally reached her, or when he touched her face, worried. It wasn't until another name was called, that she reacted.

"Sif..." She murmured brokenly, a second after Loki did.

It was awful, a horror like Tinúviel had never known before. She'd heard the stories people told about the Bloody Night, but never could she have imagined a scene like she was witnessing in that moment. Her friend, laying on that courtyard, sun-kissed skin and golden hair covered in blood, clothes half in tatters, cuts on more than half of her body.

The hazel-eyed dropped to her knees without being fully conscious of it. Holding her hands gingerly a couple of inches away from Sif's skin, her wish to offer comfort warring with her knowledge that anything might end up hurting her friend further.

"We need to get her to the healers, now!" Loki practically roared.

"Will she make it...?" Someone asked in the background.

That was the wrong thing to say, as was confirmed by Loki's wordless cry of fury. He was about to use his magic to levitate Sif (knowing that any touch to the back of her body would only cause her pain and that even levitation wouldn't be completely painless), when he unexpectedly felt something shift in the corner of his soul that connected him to his match.

"My love..." He called, confused.

Tinúviel didn't hear him, she was't hearing anything anymore, except for a wordless voice, an instinct inside her, leading her. She could feel a warmth inside her, a warmth that had seemingly always been there, even if she hadn't always been aware of it. Without a word, she held her hands half an inch or so over Sif's head, some of her worse cuts; mentally willing the warmth inside her to move, to manifest and then... light.

A bright light, like white-gold, appeared on Tinúviel's hands, from there extending to Sif's head, touching each of her cuts, seemingly going into it, making it vanish. So it happened, slowly, each cut disappeared, leaving behind half-dried blood and pink new skin, the lightest of scars on top. The most amazing thing was that the young princess wasn't aware of any of it, her eyes closed as she moved her hands slowly down Sif's body; an instinct telling her when it was time to move her hands to the next cut.

It was over as suddenly as it began. The light died out and Tinúviel could feel the warmth inside her receding, coldness replacing it, and tiredness. The last thing she was aware of was her match calling her name (for the umpteenth time) before blackness claimed her.

Sif groaned low in her throat, no longer really in pain but certainly in shock and confusion. She'd been so sure she was going to die, from the moment she'd placed herself in the path of all those blades, ready to do anything to protect her friend... and suddenly she was alright, it was so strange... However, her thoughts were pulled abruptly away from that when she heard Loki's frantic cry for Tinúviel and felt him reach over her for the elven princess's limp form, which had fallen half-over Sif already.

"Is she alright?" She called, unable to move without unbalancing both Loki and Tinúviel.

"She's just unconscious..." Loki murmured, though he sounded worried himself.

"She ought to be, after the miracle she just pulled." Ylva said quietly behind them, most of her attention still on Amora.

"You didn't tell us your wife was capable of such feats, Loki!" Fandral called loudly.

Loki did not answer, how could he? How could he ever explain that Tinúviel wasn't a spell-weaver after what they all had just seen? It wasn't that he hadn't known, because they both knew everything about each other, it was part of the bond between them, which grew stronger every year. Tinúviel had been born with no magic, had never been capable of anything beyond the natural empathy of the Ljósálfar and the barest hint of precognition (usually manifesting as an instinct inside her); for her to suddenly be able to heal... He had absolutely no idea what was going on anymore.

**xXx**

No one ever knew, for sure, what had happened that day, beyond the obvious. It took a whole day and night for Tinúviel to wake up, and even when she did she was tired and confused for a few more, though she knew what she had done, even if not how. The best theory anyone could come up with was when Lady Frigg explained to them that sometimes, when one married their match, the Stars blessed them in some way. It was how she (the Queen) had gained her gift to weave prophecies into her tapestries; Tinúviel had been gifted with the ability to heal through magic and will alone, something no more than a handful could do (the most adept at it being Lady Frigg herself and the Royal Healer, Eir, Goddess of Healing and Mercy).

After that part was settled, everyone's focus turned to the 'other side' of the story. It turned out that Lorelei had somehow developed the ability to hypnotize men through her voice alone, it was how she got Amora out of the dungeons, and why all the guards went missing. Things hadn't been exactly easy until Loki had arrived, along with Ylva and a score of valkyries, as they were the only ones completely immune to the Enchantress's spell (they believed Loki's match-bond was what protected him, he was the only one in all the group with that kind of bond).

It had taken a while to render Lorelei mute (if only temporarily), but it was achieved eventually. It was after that fact, that they'd discovered the true purpose of the attack: distraction. Getting most of the warriors out of the palace, while Amora went to exact her revenge, by killing Princess Tinúviel. The blonde Enchantress hated the elven princess for thwarting her latest attempt at seducing Thor; and her death would also hurt both Thor and Loki, which was always a plus in the insane, obsessed woman's mind.

If Sif hadn't been there in that moment, if she hadn't been so willing to put her life on the line to protect Tinúviel... Loki had a feeling he would never stop owing his friend for what she'd done. And she'd paid for it, heavily.

The sisters were sent to the dungeons, after all was said and done. Lorelei with a neck-device carefully crafted by the dwarves and heavily spelled by Loki, which kept the woman from gaining access to any of her magic (especially her hypnosis) as long as she wore it. Amora had on heavy armbands and a chain around her neck that fulfilled the same purpose (though she still had her voice). Truth was, Loki had been all for executing (ready to do it personally, if need be), after what the blonde had attempted; but Tinúviel had refused, not wanting there to be any more blood shed on her account (seeing Sif covered in her own had been too much already), so Loki had desisted on that, though he still insisted that Amora be imprisoned for a very, very long time. It was her words that day that also earned Tinúviel the title as Goddess of Compassion... one that she would carry for the rest of her life.

The hardest part of the whole event, however, wasn't really for Tinúviel. As shaken as the attack left her, in the end the elven princess focused all her energies in training more and harder than before. Amora had been sent to her cell with an unhealed cut that went from her cheek (just beside her nose) up to her temple (just barely missing her eye), from the arrow Tinúviel had shot at her. A cut that would scar (probably badly) an eternal reminder of how not-defenseless the young she-elf truly was. That had helped, as did training even more.

Sif was another matter entirely. She was strong, there was no doubt about that, deserving of the title of Valkyrie, even when she'd never set foot on Valhalla. And yet, none of that could have stopped the attack from hitting her, hard. Thanks to Tinúviel she had survived, only the thinnest, mostly-invisible scars on the back of her body remaining... but there were still her memories, which hurt even more. One in particular, of her blood-red hair, clinging to her face.

One thing that most did not know, was that Sif had never lost consciousness, even when she'd fallen, even when unable to move. And when Tinúviel had gone to stand against the crazy spell-weaver, all Sif had been able to do was lay on that courtyard, immobilized, unable to see anything except her blood-tinted golden hair half-covering her face.

It wasn't only her. The image was in everyone's minds. Even after Tinúviel had pulled-off her miracle and healed Sif, the blood had still stained her: clothes, skin and hair. It was a sickening image: with the usually bright-gold hair so heavily matted with blood (making obvious just how badly injured the warrior-lady had been). So while all the Aesir could do nothing except respect Sif greatly, they also couldn't forget the way she'd looked that day. At least not until Loki decided enough was enough and did something about it...

"Loki!" The cry that morning echoed across the halls of the palace.

By the time Sif and Loki were face to face, in the hall leading to the Royal apartments, Sif's continuous cries of his name, and Loki's seemingly endless laughter had attracted a considerable crowd. Tinúviel (as had become usual since the attack) right beside her husband said not a word, though she did smile at the warrior-lady in a way she hadn't since Amora's assassination attempt.

"Brother!" Thor was the first to break the shocked silence of everyone around them. "What have you done to the lady's hair?!"

And it was that Sif's tresses were no longer the golden-blonde they'd been for their whole lives, instead they looked obsidian black.

Loki did not answer, him, instead he turned to stare straight at his oldest friends.

"You know why, don't you?" He asked her, all seriousness.

"I do." Sif dropped the facade of anger, allowing a small, almost wistful smile to appear on her lips. "Thank you Loki..."

"Thank..." Thor really did not understand. "Sif? Loki?"

"My hair was stained in blood, my own blood." The warrior-lady told him. "Even after I washed it, that was an image I could never get out of my head, no one could. My golden hair tinted red with my own blood... now that taint has finally been washed away. I am my own person again."

"Your own person." Tinúviel agreed. "But not the same you were before. You're more now Sif, so much more..."

"Indeed." Loki agreed whole-heartedly. "Lady Sif, Goddess of War..."

Indeed, all of them were so much more. They had survived, they were strong.

* * *

><p>And cut! What do you think of this?<p>

I know that I technically had already called Sif goddess of war, but consider this distinction if you may: before Sif was A goddess of war, like any Valkyrie, it was just a way of naming her as a warrior-lady; now she is The Goddess of War (yes, with all those caps). To give another example, it would be like Nightingale and Frigg are goddesses of healing, but Eris is The Goddess of Healing (a gift/characteristic versus an actual title).

On that front, the healing, it is something Tinúviel developed after her match with Loki. You can see it as something of a lost potential inside her that was woken with the magic of their bond. It's also connected to Nightingale having the same gift (and why she only got it after she left behind her human life and had fully become who she was meant to be, by Loki's side... AUs notwithstanding). I don't know if I will get the chance to say this in the story proper, but just in case I'll say it here. Loki will get a 'gift' too, the ability to shadow-walk, it's how will come to get the power to travel through the Shadow Paths (as you might have noticed, until this point he only traveled through Hidden Roads).

On the fake-names used. Serrure was obvious, really. At the same time, it's a french word that shares one of the meanings of the name Loki (lock), I alluded to those in the things Frigg said about him when Odin frist brought the newborn to her (in the last chapter). Rossi is short for Rossignol, songbird, which is what they call nightingales.

Kudos to those who found the connections between this fic and Nexus (there are a few, but two in particular I hid like the easter-eggs Marvel is so fond of, in a chapter in the previous story... they were supposed to be the preamble for this). Also, to whoever might have seen the hint for one of the future crossovers in this, and guess what I will be making crossover with I offer one of the following: A cameo in the next story or a scene in advance from the next story (and I mean the next story in the main timeline, not the AUs that I will be posting first).

Next chapter: more visits to other realms, the birth of light, and eventually we'll be coming full circle. (If you think a lot happened in this chapter, the next one is worse!)


	3. Choir

Songs for this chapter:

- Remember Me, by Josh Groban (the end theme for the Troy movie).

- Tonight I Celebrate My Love, by Peabo Bryson & Roberta Flack.

- In My Daughter's Eyes, by Martina McBride.

- Listen to the Wind, by Hayley Westerna (just a part of it).

- Fire and Rain, the Acoustic Cover by Boyce Avenue (Just a part of it).

- A Thousand Years, Cover by Harmonize Projekt 2

From what I know of canon, I understand that Jane's ex-boyfriend is supposed to be called Donald Blake... but since I really don't think Jane would want to give Thor the name of her ex, even if only to use as a fake-name, I changed it to Daniel. The story of those two came from too many fanfiction-reading (enough people seem to agree in things that I no longer know if they're canon, fanon, or just a lot of people sharing the same ideas).

WARNING: There is death in this chapter. Some you've been expecting already, some not. For specific mention of possible triggers please check the first line of the End notes.

Now, on with this chapter. The final part of this side-story.

* * *

><p><strong>Choir <strong>

"You don't need to be here, you know?" A quiet voice said softly.

In that moment Tinúviel was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, in her lap were a dozen arrows, used arrows, and the she-elf was carefully doing what she could to salvage them. In their current situation she would be needing every arrow she could get her hands on.

And their current situation, was battle. They'd all seen it coming, the situation in Egypt had only escalated in the last couple of years, and it'd finally snapped. War had broken out, claiming lives left and right. Loki and Tinúviel were there. Had been for several weeks by then; they'd stood at their friends' side, doing everything in their hands to help. Loki was a great warrior, and one of the best strategists anyone had ever seen, then there was his magic (which he used little, so as not to be noticed by those who knew not who he really was, but still); Tinúviel was a talented archer herself, though it was her gift for healing that had saved the most lives.

It had been years since Amora's attack, Sif's naming as Goddess of War, her change of hair, and the discovery of the gift the Stars had granted the she-elf after her bonding to her match. With the help of her mother in law and the Goddess of Healing, Lady Eir herself, Tinúviel had learnt to handle the magic. There were limits to what she could do, of course; and if she over-exerted herself it caused her to black-out and sleep for a long while (though she was getting better). The true surprise, however, came when they learnt she wasn't the only one blessed by the stars. Loki could shadow-walk, a talent believed to have been lost millennia before (believed by most to be nothing more than legend). It was what had allowed the pair to visit their friends in Midgard so often, and to be with them when war broke out.

"Sharifa..." Tinúviel honesty did not know how to respond.

"There's no need for lies among friends." The dark-haired woman said solemnly. "We both know this war is lost already, our husbands know it as well. Kontar and I might as well be considered 'walking dead' right now."

"It need not be that way." The auburn-haired she-elf murmured. "You know that. We can get you out of here..."

"No." Sharifa shook her head, resigned but sure of herself. "We cannot do that, my friend. You know it as well as I. These people..." She waved out the window. "These are our people, and we shall not leave them. Kontar and I shall stand with them to the end..."

And it would be the end, they both knew that, no need to try for denials.

The somber conversation was interrupted as Loki and Kontar abruptly materialized in the middle of the room. It was actually Sharifa's private quarters; the safest rooms to be found in their home. Where the women had barricaded themselves in after the latest battle in an attempt to take a breath before going back out to fight... probably for the last time.

"Habibi (My love)..." Kontar breathed out as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

"Hayete (My life)..." She replied in what had become the usual manner.

He made to walk, but the moment he did, a grimace of pain twisted his face. Which immediately made Sharifa react; as she looked down him, quickly finding the bleeding wound on his flank.

"You're hurt!" She cried out in horror.

"Allow me..." Tinúviel called as she approached them quickly.

It took but a few seconds for the wound on Kontar's side to be healed. Both midgardians turned grateful eyes to the Ljósálfar, who just smiled right back at them. Then they could all here the loud crack of a door being taken down, and they knew the time was running out. The enemy was at their doors.

"We're out of time." Sharifa mumbled quietly.

"You could still leave." Kontar said suddenly to his wife. "Let Loki and Tinúviel take you away, let them save you."

"You will not leave your people, and I will not leave you." Sharifa replied with a strong voice, a hand reaching to caress her beloved's hand. "I vowed to be by your side, no matter what. And to that vow I hold. If this is to be our last day in this life, if we're to enter the Underworld today, I will do so by your side, on your arm. As it was always meant to be."

Kontar trembled, swallowing a sob. He loved his wife so much, and while a part of him wished she would save herself; another couldn't help but rejoice in her choice of staying with him.

"My friends..." He began then, turning to the other two.

"For as long as you fight, so shall we." Tinúviel stated before her match could even think of anything else.

She knew he didn't like the idea of her staying through the upcoming battle, but there was no way she was leaving him. For better or for worse, she would stand by him.

In the end, that battle would be one of the worst the elven princess of Asgard had seen in her life (though, at least in her mind, nothing could be worse than watching her best friend, her almost sister, fall defending her from a crazed Enchantress).

Kontar and Sharifa died that day. She was the first to go down, a blade piercing her stomach and pinning her down. Kontar went crazy when seeing her fall, much like Loki imagined the Berserker soldiers from the old tales of the Ice Wars must have been. He took on what must have been over a dozen warriors on his own, and while he managed to defeat them all in the end, the injuries dealt to him were too many and he collapsed already half dead.

There was nothing either Asgardian royal could do. Tinúviel's powers did not extend to the dead, and by the time she managed to make her way to her friend, it was already too late. Loki, moved by his rage at seeing two of his dearest friends fall, losing everything they'd ever had, and then each other, used the most magic he ever had, leveling the battleground and annihilating half of the enemy army in one go (he also took several allies, probably, but was far too gone to notice it, or really care).

Tinúviel did not bother to focus on the dead. As much as she wanted to be sick at the sight and smell of all the death around her; there was just no time to focus on that. Instead she just ran, ran as fast as her feet would take her, and purposefully not looking at whatever she might be stepping on (she was quite sure her shoes and clothes were ruined already, and she must look a right mess, but she did not care). When she reached her friend, Sharifa was still alive, though barely.

"Here," The Ljósálfar dropped to her knees instantly, hands reaching for the grievous wound almost instinctively. "Let me..."

"No..." Sharifa moaned, her own hands reaching to stop her friend's. "No!"

"Sharifa..." Tinúviel was shocked into stillness.

"Kontar... is dead..." It pained the Egyptian woman to even talk, but she kept at it anyway.

"He... well..." The she-elf didn't know what to say.

"You... need not lie to me." Her friend shook her head slowly. "I... I can sense he's gone... There is... a hole in my heart. I... am going to meet him now."

"Sharifa..."

"I do not want to live without him, my friend. You understand, don't you?"

She did, much as it might terrify Tinúviel to admit it, to even think about it, she truly understood what Sharifa was saying. She couldn't conceive the idea of living without Loki... and she'd seen how much Sharifa and Kontar loved each other. While most might not believe it possible, there was no doubt in the elven princess that those two were a match. The two just loved each other too much for anything else to be possible.

"Take me to him, please." Sharifa asked, unexpectedly. "I promised to be by his side when we went. That we would cross over hand in hand."

For a moment, Tinúviel despaired, there was no way she could do what her friend asked her; she had not the strength, Sharifa was bigger than her! And then, suddenly, her own beloved was there. With a swift motion Loki vanished the blade in Sharifa's stomach; she was dying already, it would make no difference in the end. Then, very carefully so as not to hurt her further, the Aesir prince gathered her in his arms, and carried her several feet, to where Kontar lay, amidst the bodies of too many enemies to properly count. He laid her down then, carefully, beside her beloved, where Sharifa immediately took his closest hand in one of hers.

"Thank you, my friends." She told the two. "For being here, not just today, but every day since we first had the pleasure of meeting you. You've brought great joy to our lives, and even now you've given me a measure of comfort I would have never gotten otherwise."

"Wish we could have done more." Loki admitted quietly, a part of him still raging at everything that was happening.

"You destroyed our enemies, you have avenged us." The Midgardian stated quietly. "You have been the truest friends. I... We could ask for no more than that."

"Goodbye my friend." Tinúviel whispered, taking Sharifa's free hand in hers. "May the two of you find each other in another life, a better life."

"And may we meet the two of you again, somehow, somewhere." The other agreed.

"May the Norns watch over you in your journey." Loki declared. "Go in peace."

"Sing for me, for us, my friends..." Sharifa asked suddenly. "Just...one last time."

"Of course." The Ljósálfar agreed immediately.

She could feel the moment her match made up his mind and, deciding that it was only right for him to sing; after all, as dear as the two midgardians might be to her, they were far dearer to him, for he'd meet them and befriended them first. Two of his first true friends. So she let him sing, and instead let out her grief in a song-wail of her own. Right before he began to sing:

"Remember, I will still be here  
>As long as you hold me, in your memory."<p>

"Remember, when your dreams have ended  
>Time can be transcended<br>Just remember me..."

"I am the one star that keeps burning, so brightly,  
>It is the last light, to fade into the rising sun."<p>

"I'm with you whenever you tell my story  
>For I am all I've done."<p>

They reached a point in the melody then when the young prince couldn't help but double over, his hands reaching to touch the cooling bodies of his friends, even as his match extended her one free hand to place it on his arm, trying to convey her worry, to offer some form of comfort. And even then, even with as much as he hurt, Loki refused to stop his song, he wasn't done yet; and as his voice rose once more, his beloved's rose with his, echoing his melody, his grief, his love:

"Remember, I will still be here  
>As long as you hold me, in your memory.<br>Remember me..."

"I am that one voice in the cold wind, that whispers  
>And if you listen, you'll hear me call across the sky."<p>

"As long as I still can reach out, and touch you  
>Then I will never die."<p>

The feelings were such at that point that Loki couldn't help but curl up into himself just a bit, just for a moment. But Tinúviel did not allow the melody that he'd begun to be broken, instead taking it over. There were no words coming from her, but the cry filled the air, entwining into the song of loyalty, grief, of a friendship so great it had transcended barriers of space, of races...

"Remember, I'll never leave you  
>If you will only<p>

Remember me."

"Remember me..." The she-elf's voice echoed her match's hauntingly.

"Remember, I will still be here  
>As long as you hold me<br>In your memory..."

"Remember, when your dreams have ended  
>Time can be transcended<br>I live forever  
>Remember me<br>Remember me  
>Remember... me..."<p>

A last long cry from Tinúviel gave closing to the song, almost at the same time Sharifa stopped breathing, just a second before her heart stopped beating completely

"Namarië, mellonamin (Farewell, my friend)..." The princess whispered to her deceased friend, before breaking into near-hysterical sobs.

The battle had ended at some point, and none seem to be alive around them anymore; the Asgardians did not know when it had happened, nor did they care.

"A'maelamin..." Loki whispered, letting go his friends to hold her match instead.

"Take me away from here Loki..." She whispered, burying her head in his neck. "I wish not be here anymore... I cannot!"

He needed nothing further to be said, without letting her go, Loki called on his power, and they were gone. Leaving behind a battlefield drenched in blood, with no living being left to tell the tale of what had happened there.

It would be many, many long years before either of them felt comfortable visiting Midgard again, before they were willing to make friends, knowing they would lose them some day...

**xXx**

Tinúviel and Loki were depressed for a very long time, mourning the loss of their friends. No one in Asgard understood it, though Lady Frigg and Sif at least tried to be sympathetic about their grief. Odin did not see the point, the two had been mortal, so it was only to be expected that they would die sooner or later (he also hadn't liked his son and daughter traveling so often to such a 'primitive' realm like Midgard, ); Thor, while trying to be supportive, just couldn't understand why anyone would come to care so much about people knowing they would lose them, even if not to war, to their own mortality.

"You will understand one day, Thor." Tinúviel told him simply.

She couldn't have known it, but her words were prophetic, one day the god of thunder truly would understand, in more ways than he could have ever imagined, or wanted to. One day he would come to care for mortals as much as he did for his own family, and would come to love one more than his own life. And he would understand the bittersweet taste of loving someone you know cannot stay with you forever. But it would yet be many years before that happened.

It was the most unexpected of events that finally got Loki and Tinúviel out of their grief. The arrival of Ylva late one night. The first thing that called the couple's attention was that she wasn't dressed in the traditional attire of the Valkyries, but instead in a crimson dress with one shoulder bare, beneath a half-open tanned hooded cloak. And the surprises did not end there, when the warrior-lady pushed the hood of her cloak, the other two could see that her hair was down (something they'd never seen before), loose blonde curls falling about her shoulders, her honey eyes were shining.

"Ylva?" Tinúviel asked, confused. "Is everything alright?"

"My prince, my princess." The woman bowed respectfully at them. "I hope you'll forgive the suddenness of my arrival, but on this night I come to you with a request."

"What is it?" The princess was honestly intrigued.

"If it is in my power to give, I will give it." Loki hadn't yet forgotten how much help the Valkyrie had been in the recent attempt against his match, he never would.

"I wish for your blessing to bond with Fenrir in marriage on the next full moon." Ylva blurted out suddenly, her voice shaking just a bit with nervousness.

The shock was so great neither royal knew what to say for a minute or so. Though once that was past Tinúviel rushed the warrior-lady, embracing her tightly.

"I'm so happy for you!" She called out brightly.

It was the first time she'd smiled so widely, so sincerely, since Kontar's and Sharifa's deaths.

"It will be my honor to give you my blessing." Loki said sincerely, taking one of Ylva's hands in his one, and then kissing her brow.

He hadn't the slightest idea when the two had met, when they'd fallen in love, nothing at all; though it wasn't really necessary. Both Loki and Tinúviel could tell that the valkyries was sincere in her love for their adopted son. It brought the she-elf especially great joy to know that Fenrir had found someone to love him. After the mess with Lady Idunn, his attempt at courting her, which had become a mess with the lady unable to recognize what Fenrir was doing and the Aesir reacting violently, intent on hunting a wolf... In the end Loki had managed to save his would-be son, but it was a near-miss, and Fenrir had ended magically imprisoned, limited to a meadow in the deepest part of Asgard's forest, unable to leave.

"It would bring us great joy to be there to witness it." Loki added.

"We would feel the same." Ylva nodded in agreement.

A week later the full moon came and prince, princess and Valkyrie left the palace in the cover of the night (it wouldn't do for people to begin talking behind their backs, and they knew if they were to find out that a Valkyrie was to bind herself to one they considered a monster). The mix of the light and inherent power in such an event usually made it easier for the shape-shifter to take humanoid form, which made it the ideal night for a wedding.

Fenrir was already waiting for them when they arrived, he was wearing his usual clothes for when he was humanoid: a dark linen shirt, black pants and leather boots. His hair wasn't as wild as usual when he'd just changed, showing the effort he'd put into looking good for his bride. The moment they arrived Ylva threw aside her cloak, revealing a pale blue (almost off-white) short-sleeved dress with a wide brown belt and leather boots; again her hair was down completely.

Once inside the sealed meadow, Tinúviel hurried to embrace her 'adopted son'; showing with her actions how happy she was for him. Loki too did not need to say a word, Fenrir knew him well enough, the two men clasped hands, wrists touching, showing how much they cared.

The ceremony was a rather simple one. With vows and tokens exchanged. They weren't any pre-arranged words or anything, but what came from their own heart; which made it all the more special. The tokens were just as simple, and important: handmade bracelets, carefully done by them, woven from a strand of leather, a curl of Ylva's hair, and some of Fenrir's own fur. They were simple, and completely perfect.

"We have gifts for you." Tinúviel announced brightly as soon as the ceremony itself ended.

Fenrir and Ylva could only blink; the Valkyrie in particular wasn't used to the princess's almost childlike eagerness when it came to gift-giving. Loki, who'd become used to it in the years since their marriage and, more importantly, could feel his match's honest delight inside her whenever she got the chance to give something to someone she loved, especially when the gift was something she'd made herself, as was the case in that moment; though, right then, the gift was something the two of them had worked on together.

They were cloaks: the cloth carefully woven by Tinúviel herself, who'd poured all her love into the work; even as Loki sat beside her, assisting her when possible, and adding his magic into the fabric as it progressed.

"They're beautiful..." Ylva murmured quietly, as the gifts were handed out.

Fenrir was the first to unwrap his. A sturdy black cloak, perfect to keep him warm; the cloth was strong enough to last even in the outdoors during winter; and the most important was that the mix of love and magic that had been poured into it had turned into some of the most powerful protective spells anyone had ever seen.

Tinúviel's cloak came next, completely different from Fenrir's, and undoubtedly beautiful. It was red, the same shade as the dress Ylva had been wearing on the night she'd asked the royal couple for their blessing to marry their adopted son. It also had the same love, magic and protection woven into it, and something more...

"While red might seem a bit ostentatious, or attention-grabbing; there is a spell woven into this cloak that will allow you to go as good as unseen, whenever you wear it." The she-elf told her.

"Others will see you, but they will not be able to focus on you, when you wear it." Her match elaborated. "Once you're gone they will remember nothing except seeing a random woman pass. That will allow your visits to Fenrir to continue to go unnoticed... and might grant you a level of anonymity and protection when you need it most."

"Thank you." Ylva smiled, like she never had before, as she donned her cloak.

Tinúviel unpacked then the food she'd taken earlier from the kitchens. It was nothing like what an official wedding feast would have been, but certainly enough for the four of them.

The celebration ended eventually, as the moon reached its highest point in the sky. Though the bride and groom had one more request before the celebration ended.

"If you would grant us one more gift." Ylva said. "I've heard of the beauty of elven voices, and would feel incredibly blessed if you would sing something for us before the night ends."

"It would be my pleasure, indeed, to do such a thing." The she-elf declared with a slightly flushed smile. "Though I hope you'll forgive if I have nothing prepared. I shall have to improvise."

And improvise she did, in more ways that one; some that even she could have never planned for:

"Tonight, I celebrate my love for you  
>It seems the natural thing to do."<p>

The princess began, looking for the right rhythm even as she began the song.

"Tonight, no one's gonna find us  
>We'll leave the world behind us."<p>

Great was the surprise, not just from her, but everyone, as Loki put his two cents.

"When I make love to you."

And when the two sang one line together, it was like everything suddenly fell into place.

"Tonight, I celebrate my love for you  
>And hope, that deep inside you feel it too."<p>

Tinúviel sang two more lines, the smile on her face growing as a growing love filled her.

"Tonight our spirits will be climbing  
>To a sky lit up with diamonds."<p>

Loki added, his own smile reflection that of her match, just as her love echoed hers.

"When I make love to you,  
>Tonight."<p>

"Tonight, I celebrate my love for you  
>And that midnight song<br>Is gonna come shining through."

None of them was sure exactly when it happened; but at some point the two began dancing even as they sang; and a few feet away from them, Fenrir and Ylva were doing the same; quite moved by the improvised song as well as the magic and love every word carried:

"Tonight, there'll be no distance between us."

Loki went on, spinning his wife out with a smile so bright, like no one had ever seen before.

"What I want most to do  
>Is to get close to you<br>Tonight."

"Tonight, I celebrate my love for you  
>And soon this old world will seem brand new."<p>

Tinúviel spun back into him, lips caressing the corner of his lips, never stopping her song.

"Tonight, we will both discover  
>How friends turn into lovers."<p>

The Aesir prince couldn't help but turn briefly to look at his beloved adopted son and his bride as he said those words; they were as true for them, as they were for himself and his own match.

"When I make love to you."

The she-elf finished with him, as her eyes twinkled, she knew what was in his thoughts, for her own were exactly the same. It didn't matter that they knew relatively little of Ylva; or that they'd never known the two of them were together. They were in love, true love, nothing else mattered.

"Tonight I celebrate my love for you  
>and that midnight song<br>Is gonna come shining through."

The moon was shining bright above them, as the two couples danced, the light and the music entwining with the love each of them exuded, creating an atmosphere that went beyond the magic anyone, even Loki, could have called forward on his own. It was the perfect moment.

"Tonight, there'll be no distance between us."

As if to prove the point, the sorcerer pulled his beloved tight against his body, leaving not an inch between them, their breaths mingling, along with their song and their love.

"What I want most to do  
>Is to get close to you."<p>

The she-elf just held on tight onto him, letting all her love (so much she felt like it would make her burst at any moment) fill the bond between them filling both their souls completely.

"Tonight, I celebrate my love for you  
>Tonight..."<p>

**xXx**

Years passed, and soon enough Tinúviel's smiles were lighting Asgard again, her voice carrying her love like the purest magic to every corner of the land; in a way that some said showed her union to it, just like she'd have been tied to Alfheim, had she ever officially become Mother Queen of her birth-realm.

There had been no Queens since her departure, not even true candidates for it. Though there seemed to be no real need for one, either. After so many years of one princess carrying all the duties, it was quite easy for a sisterhood of them to do the same; and with the assistance of the Protectors, the Coven as well as Lord Frey, nothing else was truly necessary. The Realm had learnt some things during Lalaith's twenty years as princess: they'd learnt that change wasn't always a bad thing (whether that meant treaties with other realms, or princesses learning how to defend themselves, or there being no Queen); though the most important perhaps had been that they'd learnt they were all strong.

Tinúviel herself had learnt that too. Whether she was acting as diplomat and ambassador, or as a warrior, she was strong. She was sure that as long as she had her match, nothing would ever be able to stop her.

And so the years passed, and the God of Mischief and Goddess of Compassion became well-known and loved across the realms. Even the dwarves of Nidavellir, known for being some of the most secretive and near-xenophobic beings in the realms of Yggdrasil welcomed the couple into their lands, their secret kingdom beneath the ground. Plans were being made, to one day possibly include Jotunheim as well (though they knew it wouldn't be anytime soon, not with the Ice Wars and the Bloody Night so close still).

One particular morning, Tinúviel woke up abruptly. There was no scream, no gasp, no dramatic reaction to signal that she'd been having a nightmare, or anything else that could have possibly disturbed her rest. Still, her movement as she sat up was enough to wake her match as well, who sat up beside her, trying to find out what was wrong, and yet...

"We're having a child..." His beloved whispered out-of-nowhere.

"Wha...?" The sorcerer was completely floored, never having expected such words to come out of his wife's mouth.

They'd been married for decades at that point, and were still as in love, and as passionate for each other, as they'd been from the very beginning. Tinúviel tried to be proper when in public areas of the palace, or out in the city, though there were times when her husband's own passion for her took over and there was little she could (or wanted to) do to stop him. She knew the Elders and High Nobles did not like it. Public demonstrations of affections were improper and to be kept in private quarters (stars forbid that a couple around there actually love each other and showed it!). Still, and as much as she sometimes liked to see their flustered and rankled expressions when Loki and her would kiss or hold each other a bit too closely in public; in the end Tinúviel had been raised to be a proper princess, and did her best to abide to the rules of decorum. Loki knew that too and did his best not to 'push her' (too often).

"A daughter." She added for good measure.

"How...?" He really couldn't coordinate his thoughts and words in that moment.

Her match arched a brow elegantly, pointedly looking down at herself, and him, neither of them had on a single stitch of clothing, which was his preference rather than hers. The she-elf didn't really mind sleeping in the nude, but wasn't used to it either, and at times worried her that someone might see her one day.

"That's not what I mean!" The prince cried out, blushing just a bit. "I just..."

"I saw her." Tinúviel confessed quietly. "I... I don't know why, or how... or anything. I'm not a Seer, or anything like that. But I'm sure of it. I'm sure it was our daughter that I just saw, I could feel it... and I can feel her now."

As if to prove it, both to him and to herself, the Ljósálfar took one of her husband's hands in hers, pressing it just slightly against her lower stomach. Loki's magic reacted the moment there was contact. A spark of his magic burying inside her, reaching another buried deep inside; the lightest echo of power feeling so big in that moment, as if it would swallow them both.

"You're with child..." He murmured, beyond amazed at the idea.

Tinúviel half rolled her eyes good-naturedly; that was what she'd been telling him...

"I'm going to be a father..." He whispered next, her expression turning into a mix of profound wonder and absolute terror. "I haven't the slightest idea how to be a father!"

"Just like I have no idea how to be a mother." She reminded him. "We'll learn. And we'll have good people to help us along. Like your parents Thor, Sif..."

"A daughter you said?" He sought to confirm next.

"Yes." His match noticed, eyes getting misty just at the memory of what she'd seen in dreams, it might have been just a moment, but it had been enough. "She'll be so beautiful, both inside and out. The brightest light in the universe... our light..."

"Helena..."

It was impossible to know for sure which of them had said it first, or if they both had. But in that moment there wasn't the slightest doubt about it. That was to be their daughter's name. Helena, their beautiful bright light...

The news of the princess's pregnancy spread like wildfire. Everyone celebrated the news. And it was that, despite being very long living beings, the Aesir hardly ever had offspring. Even with the most stable pairings, it almost always took many years before they even began planning for a child, and most had only one or two at most (they also needed to be blessed with one). There had hardly been any children since the princes, and some believed it to be a good sing (of course there were some that were also quite eager to spoil the to-be-princes rotten).

The pregnancy went well-enough. Lady Frigg had good advice to give regarding morning sickness (and random all-day sickness), aches, and everything else. Sif was also always there, ready to help her friend with anything that was necessary. After the assassination attempt she'd been officially given the rank of Valkyrie, she was also considered one of Tinúviel's and Loki's personal guards, along with Ylva; and Erynion, whenever he happened to be in Asgard.

The funniest part of the pregnancy though, were the cravings. While Loki was Tinúviel's match, Thor had promised to help with anything he could; most of the time that amounted to the she-elf's craving (almost always for fresh fruit, something really cold, or both together). A moment came when she couldn't bear anymore to be away from Loki for any serious amount of time; and so Thor had promised to help with the cravings when that happened. It made more than one person laugh, to see the 'golden prince' of Asgard rushing this way and that to get whatever his sister needed; especially since half the time he was followed around by the Warriors Three (who most of the time hadn't the slightest idea what they were supposed to be doing).

It was the last month of the pregnancy that was the hardest. Tinúviel grew weaker very rapidly, going as far as having fainting spells a few times, once actually dropping unconscious in the middle of a hallway, on her way to the dinning hall, after having spent most of the day relaxing in hers and Loki's private garden. When one of her handmaidens found her everyone in the palace went half insane, until Lady Frigg realized what was going on: Loki was a sorcerer, with the potential to be one of the most powerful sorcerers in all the realms; Tinúviel for her part had no magic except her gift for healing. Her child, being a mix of them, had magic, and needed it; and the she-elf couldn't give her that.

It was relatively easy to find a solution, once they knew the problem. The Queen taught her son how to 'donate' some magic to his wife, through the bonds they already shared. She warned them that doing something like that would strengthen them faster than a normal bonding would. Yet, they had married under the Ancient Vows; which meant that, one way or another, they would be together to the end of time. They also found that constant skin-to-skin contact kept the baby calm (which also helped greatly, as it was a big baby, and Tinúviel had never been very tall, despite being a Ljósálfar).

Eventually the day came. It was a long labor, long enough to make almost everyone insane. At first the healers had tried to send Loki out of the room (it was against tradition for him to be present during the birth); until they actually made him go and they all noticed Tinúviel's vitals begin to lower the farther her match got from her. The baby couldn't be without her father's magic in that moment, neither could the mother, for that matter. So Loki was made to sit behind his wife, holding her in his arms, making sure his bare hands were touching her skin directly. It made some things easier, and other harder. The prince had already been ready to refuse leaving his wife, so that made things better; but the direct contact somewhat turned the Ljósálfar's empathy against him, making him feel a ghost of the pain she was enduring. The problem was that he wasn't really taking the pain, so he wasn't really helping her; though at the same time he couldn't help but think it was only right for him to feel what she did, to be with her even in that way, that it was meant to be.

Helena Lokidottir Tinúvieldottir was born on Samhain, right as the bells tolled midnight, with a new moon in the sky and all the stars shining bright. Those who saw the baby the moment she first opened her eyes would say that she had the light of the stars in her eyes, like her mother did; even if the color would eventually change to green (just like her father's). The hair was also very much like Loki's, even as a newborn, the same shade of obsidian black; only with Tinúviel's thick, loose, curls. Her creamy skin was something she'd gotten from both of her parents.

To Loki's great surprise, no one looked more full of joy and pride when introduced to the little baby girl than his father, than Odin Allfather...

"Such a beautiful child..." Odin whispered as he held his granddaughter in his arms.

"Her name is Helena." Loki told him quietly.

"Light..." The King nodded in understanding. "It is a good name. Princess Helena Lokidottir."

And she was a princess indeed, of Asgard, Alfheim and (one way or another) Jotunheim.

Helena got fussy then and Odin immediately passed the daughter to his wife, who'd always had a better hand with little children. Frigg smiled at the baby, instinctively knowing she was hungry, and made her way back to the sleeping chambers, where Tinúviel was resting.

Loki was trying to think an excuse to leave his father and brother and go join his wife. She and their daughter might no longer depend on him; but he was the one that now felt like he couldn't be away from them.

"You have a beautiful, strong daughter, brother." Thor declared, somehow managing to keep his boisterous attitude down (at his mother's insistence).

And he would know, for whatever the reason when he was given a chance to hold Helena, the baby had taken hold of his hair, and pulled. Thor could barely hold back a grimace of pain.

Loki opened his mouth, probably to comment on it, probably to try again and find an excuse to leave, but he didn't get the chance to do either, to even say a word before he felt a big hand, his father's hand, on his shoulder.

"I am proud of you my son..." Odin told him quietly.

It wasn't the first time Loki heard those words. No, ever since their 'moment' in the gardens, before his official betrothal to Tinúviel, Odin had become more aware of his sons' needs (both of them). He was more patient and at the same time strict with Thor; and he gave Loki opportunities to show his talents, as well as praised him when needed (or correct him when necessary). It was not perfect by any measure of it, but certainly a lot better than things had been.

"Now go to your wife and child." The King added in an understanding tone. "I know what you're feeling right now. Spend as much time as you want and can with them, for before you know she'll be fully grown." He let out a breath, tightening the hold on Loki's shoulder for just a moment. "We live such long lives... and yet when it comes to children, it seems like we never have enough time. It just passes by so fast..." He shook his head, finally letting go of his son. "Go now."

Loki didn't need anything else to be said, with a last smile to his father and brother he was gone.

**xXx**

Time kept moving on, and Helena grew up as a much beloved princess of Asgard. Frigga, who hadn't been blessed with a daughter of her own, loved her granddaughter dearly; though the greatest surprise was all the ways they saw Odin acting as a father, and a grandfather, whenever the little girl was around. No one could resist her innocent smile or the threat of tears from her big, green, starry eyes.

Tinúviel especially loved her daughter with a strength she hadn't known herself capable of. She took every chance to embrace her, hold her tight, kissed the girl's hair, her brow, her eyes. And while, as she grew Helena would sometimes moan in mock-annoyance, truth was she loved the continuous gestures as much as her mama did. Her very first word had been Nana (the elvish word for Mom), and everyone around was sure that there was no word she'd ever pronounced more than that one; and while Loki might complain at times, she loved both of them and could be nothing but delighted at the tight bond mother and daughter shared.

But it wasn't only the bond between mother and daughter. Soon enough it became obvious that Helena had inherited more from her father than just her hair color and eye color. Her magic was all her father's; so much that she needed to begin training almost as young as he had, younger than anyone from the covens in either Asgard or Alfheim. Loki took care of his daughter's magical training personally, with some help from his mother. He found great pleasure in them sharing something just between the two of them. And Tinúviel too enjoyed greatly whenever their little girl would hurry to her side, eager to show off a new trick.

It was a perfect life, perhaps too perfect. A corner of their minds had probably whispered that it wouldn't last; but they knew that already. Things could never stay perfect forever; and yet they weren't going to stop living their lives, worrying about something that might or might not happen. There was no point.

The next moment of joy came shortly before Helena's twentieth birthday: Princess Tinúviel was pregnant again, with another daughter. It was unheard of in Asgard, for royals to have only daughters, enough of a surprise it had been for the firstborn to be a girl, when it had always been sons. Of course, those who believed that way hadn't taken the elven princess into consideration, matriarchal lines were a given in Alfheim. It wasn't that were that many more women than men (not anymore, enough years had passed since the Ice Wars); but some bloodlines were carried more by females than males; as was the case of Lalaith's own.

The second pregnancy was quite different from the first. The first surprise had come in the fact that instead of craving cold foods, like she had with Helena, Tinúviel was craving warm and hot things, and sweets. Her favorite drink was hot cocoa (which was extremely funny considering the beverage wasn't Asgardian, though quite common in other realms like Vanaheim, Alfheim and, of course, Midgard).

The other surprise was because, unlike the first time she'd been pregnant, Tinúviel no longer needed to be touching her husband all the time, not that she didn't take any excuse to do just that; the first pregnancy had left just enough magic inside of her that the baby could take from that; and the strengthened bond between the two kept the magic flowing. That, in turn, meant the Ljósálfar wasn't weakened, she did not faint, or anything of the like. And, of course, Loki was not as good as tied to her all the time.

That proved to be a blessing when trouble began anew.

No one knew for sure when Amora had escaped from prison. The sisters hadn't been in the prison in the lower levels of the palace; as neither prince of Asgard wanted them anywhere near their family, especially Tinúviel and Helena. So instead they'd been sent to another prison, near the very edge of the Realm Eternal. By the time they learnt of the sisters' escape they were long gone, and with Amora's knowledge of the Hidden Paths, could be anywhere.

A plan was made right away. Ylva and Sif, along with two other, experienced, Valkyries were chosen two lead two separate teams of the female warriors and hunt down the Enchantresses. A third team was formed by males, those who were soul-bonded to their chosen match, or had a full preference for their own gender; for they were the only ones anyone could be sure would not fall under Lorelei's thrall. Loki himself lead that last group, and unlike the Valkyries, they did not leave Asgard; instead they patrolled the Realm Eternal.

For, as focused as the warrior-ladies might be on hunting the sisters down before they could hurt anyone; Loki could remember with painful clarity what had happened last time. Amora as obsessed with Thor, and saw Princess Tinúviel as the reason why she couldn't be with the 'golden prince'; the crazed enchantress was as unlikely to give up on either obsession (Thor as a match and Tinúviel dead), as Loki himself as unlikely to stop loving his wife and daughter. And with Tinúviel pregnant the situation became all the more delicate.

Still, the elven princess wasn't one to lay back and depend completely on others. She agreed on the necessity of staying in the palace grounds. But whenever she went, her bow and quiver of arrows weren't far from her hand. Nor was Helena, either. The girl had cajoled a number of Valkyries as well as her uncle and the Warriors Three into teaching her at least the basics of how to fight. She wasn't very good, her body too slight to pull most hand-to-hand moves; and the number of sword, axes, spears and maces that the Aesir favored were all too heavy for her to wield. And then she met Gorsimi; short in stature, with blue eyes and brown hair, she was the youngest-looking Valkyrie and one of the few who hadn't joined the teams out hunting the Enchantress sisters. Most of the time she used a long staff to fight, though her actual main weapon, as Helena learnt (and one few had ever seen her use it and lived to tell about it) was a string of golden beads wrapped in a chain around her wrist. She got Helena a similar chain and taught her how to use it, until the young princess was as good.

Helena also had certain advantages, as she could infuse the beads with magic, allowing her to slash or seize as she chose. It made her proud to be able to fight on her own. Her parents too were proud of her, not because she was a warrior-lady exactly; but because she'd achieved what she wished for, no matter how hard it might have seemed at one point.

Tinúviel was beyond the halfway point in her pregnancy when something else unexpected happened: a magik storm.

Magik storms were one of the most disastrous, and justly feared phenomenons in Asgard, and with good reason. There were enough sorcerers in the Realm Eternal, especially ones with more power than control (or training). Loki, being one of the two most powerful spell-weavers in the realm (the other being the Queen), was usually the one to go and get things back under control; most of the time with Tinúviel accompanying him, ready to put her healing gift to good use. However, with Tinúviel so far into her pregnancy and the threat of the Enchantress sisters still out there, it was decided that it was a bad idea for her to go.

"I don't need to go..." Loki told his wife quietly.

"Yes, you do." She cut him off. "The Aesir need you. They depend on you to help them from disasters such as this, my love. You're a good prince, a dependable one. Now go. Helena and I will be right here when you come back."

"I will take good care of her." The younger princess assured her father.

"I know you will." Loki nodded.

He didn't like it, that much was obvious, but she knew his match was right, and so he went to deal with the magik storm and its consequences.

Tinúviel and Helena, on the other hand, took for the little family's private garden, in hopes of some privacy and quality time. And they got it. The she-elf sat on a bench, with her back against the huge white-ash tree (grown from a sapling of the very tree in her old sanctuary in Alfheim); with her daughter curled up against her side, one hand softly caressing her mom's distended stomach, chasing the marks left by her unborn sister's hands and feet.

"Nana..." The girl murmured after what seemed like forever.

"Yes, cala amin (my light)?" The mother whispered back, one hand soothingly carding through her daughter's long hair.

"Tell me about winiseler (little sister), Nana, please." Helena asked.

Tinúviel smiled a beatific smile as she brought forward the image in her head, the dream picture she kept seeing since first becoming aware of her second pregnancy.

"She's small." The mother began the explanation. "Smaller than either you or your Adar, even smaller than I am now. Her skin is a soft cream, just like yours, her eyes are big and reflect the forest perfectly, in a mix of brown and a hint of green; her hair is long and straight like your father's, a mix of browns and reds and golden, like the petals of the most perfect, amazing flower. And she walks around in an off-white dress, with a green sash." She placed a kiss on Helena's hair. "She's beautiful and perfect, just like you."

"What will her name be?" The daughter asked, interested.

"I... I don't know." The she-elf hesitated.

"Nana..." Helena did not ask questions, just waited.

"She reminds me so much of my big sister, of Merilwen..."

"Rose... That's what meril means, right Nana?"

"Yes, rose..."

"A perfect flower... it would be a perfect name for winiseler (little sister)..."

"Meril Lokidottir... yes, that is a perfect name indeed."

"Sing for me Nana, please."

"What would you like me to sing, cala amin (my light)?"

"Anything Nana."

Tinúviel needed only a few seconds to make up her mind. Most of her songs were dedicated to her match; though a handful of times before her songs had been meant for others, the memory of her sister, her mother, the feeling deep inside that something was coming her way. It wasn't that hard, with her mind focused completely on Helena, for a new song to come from her lips:

"In my daughter's eyes I am a hero  
>I am strong and wise and I know no fear<br>But the truth is plain to see  
>She was sent to rescue me<br>I see who I wanna be  
>In my daughter's eyes..."<p>

"In my daughter's eyes everyone is equal  
>Darkness turns to light and the world is at peace<br>This miracle God gave to me

Gives me strength when I am weak  
>I find reason to believe<br>In my daughter's eyes..."

The moment Helena realized her Mama was singing a song about her (and, in a way, probably about the newly named Meril too), she burrowed deeper into Tinúviel's embrace, allowing the love to wash over her, enveloping her like the warmest and fluffiest of blankets; giving her the opportunity to relax in a way she hardly ever did. She was safe in that moment, safer than she could be anywhere else, with anyone else; and it was all because she was in her mama's arms.

"And when she wraps her hand around my finger  
>Oh it puts a smile in my heart<br>Everything becomes a little clearer  
>I realize what life is all about."<p>

"It's hangin' on when your heart has had enough  
>It's giving more when you feel like giving up<br>I've seen the light  
>It's in my daughter's eyes..."<p>

They just laid there, for what seemed like forever: Tinúviel singing, and the birds around her in the garden accompanying her melody in a most beautiful way; and in that moment, holding one daughter in her arms while the other rested inside her own body, the once-almost-Queen, felt the happiest she had ever been. That was who she was, who she was always meant to be; where she was in that moment was where she was always meant to be. She wondered if her own mother had known, if that was why she warned her about the future and Alfheim's crown... she could only hope her Naneth (Mother) knew how happy she was, how perfect her life was in that moment...

"In my daughter's eyes I can see the future  
>A reflection of who I am and what will be<br>And though she'll grow and someday leave  
>Maybe raise a family<br>When I'm gone I hope you'll see

How happy she made me  
>For I'll be there<br>In my daughter's eyes..."

**xXx**

Things couldn't stay perfect forever, and they'd all known that already. Which is why it was no surprise when the alarm rang in the palace. Thor and Odin reacted immediately, calling to the Royal Guard and getting ready for action, even as they sent Queen Frigg and her handmaidens to safety, deep in the Royal Wing. Tinúviel and Helena for their part had been on the far edge of the castle grounds, with the daughter practicing some magic to keep herself busy, and distract the mother (it also somehow seemed to entertain the baby, as she moved less inside the she-elf when magic was being done around her).

"Nana!" Helena cried out the moment she heard the alarm.

"We gotta hurry!" Tinúviel replied.

There was no time to get to the main rooms of the palace but, thankfully, there was no need either. Instead the two women slipped inside through a side-door, quickly finding their way to the servants' levels. A number of handmaidens found them there.

"Princess Tinúviel, Princess Helena!" A number of handmaidens called the moment they saw the two royals hurrying their way.

They were directed into the handmaidens' wing right away. There Helena was talked by the Head Handmaiden into changing her favorite blue gown for a steel-gray dress, identical to the ones the other handmaidens were wearing. That, at least, would serve as a measure of protection for the young daughter of Loki. Nothing could be done to hide Tinúviel, not with her pregnancy there for all to see; and she knew that.

Still, there they sat all of them; Helena sitting among the handmaidens, and all of them in a circle around their crown-princess. They could hear the echo of battle in the distance; at times getting dangerously close; enough none of them dare even suggest going out, looking for the Queen or anyone else to help them.

At some point they could hear no more, it was as if the battle had gotten far away enough there was no more danger nearby. It was what Tinúviel thought, at least, until she felt a mighty kick inside her stomach. It seemed Meril strongly disagreed with her... and then it happened. The doors to the main room, where a handful of handmaidens remained, was forcefully opened by a rushing royal guard.

"Run...!" He began, before a sickening gurgle cut him off.

Shrieks echoed all around when the handmaidens saw him fall, a thin knife stuck in his throat. And the one to throw it stepped into the room right then: it was none other than Amora.

The handmaidens' reaction was instantaneous, and almost instinctive even. Regardless of how terrified they might be, they each still stood their ground, forming a barrier between the insane Enchantress and their elven princess, Helena standing proudly among them.

It wasn't to last. Amora was beyond reasoning, her state worse than the last time Tinúviel had seen her. She laughed at the handmaidens before, with a wave of her hands, she sent them flying, making them crash against walls and furniture; more than half of them lost consciousness right away, and there was no doubt there would be some injuries (bruises, scratches, possibly even a couple of more serious ones like twisted joints or a broken bone).

"La (No)!" The she-elf cried out in her mother language, as worried for every handmaiden as she was about her own daughter.

The moment Amora turned in her direction, the princess reacted. It was more instinct that any reasoned move as she raised her bow, notched and arrow and let it fly. It was also pointless; while still absolutely insane, the enchantress had certainly learnt from her past mistakes. She did not allow the bolt to get anywhere near her before destroying it; then her next spell turned the bow, still in Tinúviel's hand into pieces, It hurt, but the she-elf refused to give her crazy enemy the satisfaction of so much as seeing her wince.

"I will destroy you, meddlesome princess." Amora practically spat as she stalked in the direction of Tinúviel. "I will destroy you utterly and completely. Then I will have Thor for myself, and my life will be perfect, just as it was meant to be!"

The Ljósálfar could do nothing but back away. She hated it, hated being defenseless. She had promised never to allow herself to be so vulnerable; yet she had no weapons anymore, and her state made hand-to-hand impossible if she wanted to keep her baby as safe as she could. Though with how crazy Amora was, she just didn't think that would remain an option for long.

She was right.

Tinúviel did not know what happened exactly, she probably never would. One moment Amora was moving in her direction, stalking her, like a predator. One moment the Enchantress was raising a hand, an odd dark glow about it, sparking, like black lightning... and the next all the princess knew was pain and dizziness. A scream echoed around her, and only belatedly she realized it was herself screaming.

The world around her faded out, and everything became but snapshots in her mind: Helena's hysterical wail for her mother, her desperate cry for her father... and suddenly Loki was there, attacking Amora with a viciousness no one had seen before, no one would have believed him capable of... until Helena's second cry reminded him what was truly important.

Tinúviel recovered consciousness of self enough to feel the moment when Helena's magic connected with her, just seconds before her eldest daughter cried out in pain.

"C-ala!" Tinúviel croaked out in panic.

Loki was beside them in an instant, bloodied knives in his hands; though he dropped them the moment he saw the state of his family.

"Beloved..." He began, before noticing something else. "Helena, sweet-heart!"

It took everything the she-elf had to open her eyes, though the horror in her husband's voice was enough to push her to try. What she found was enough to make her whine, like she never had before. Her daughter, her beautiful, perfect daughter, was hurt. It was as if parts of her skin had been burnt, one of her hands was almost completely black, and even her face was affected.

"I was just trying to help Nana!" Helena cried out in despair.

"Oh my love..." Tinúviel moaned, horrified.

To think that her darling daughter was suffering for trying to help her...

"Oh Norns!" Thor's cry could be heard at the entrance of the room. "What happened here?!"

"I knew something was wrong, I knew it..." Loki muttered angrily, mostly to himself. "I felt the moment the magik storm began, yet once I got there it was much smaller than it should have been. I didn't understand why..."

He roared his fury, even as both Tinúviel and Helena understood. Amora had caused the magik storm; and not just that, she had somehow siphoned a good deal of the wild power, causing that odd magic the she-elf had seen; and had used it against the princess... It was why Tinúviel felt so much pain, from the inside; the magik storm hurting her from the inside out; just like it'd hurt Helena when she tried to interfere. Just...

"NO!" Tinúviel's wail was enough to freeze everyone's blood.

Loki turned to her, intent on demanding what was going on, when he realized it; it was there in the endless pain in his wife's eyes... in the blood beneath her hips... and the loss of a presence against his own soul and heart...

Their unborn daughter was gone... Meril was dead.

The 'magik storm' had consumed Loki's magic inside Tinúviel faster that it could be restored; the very magic the baby needed to exist. Meril did not have a chance... and neither did Tinúviel. The magik storm was still inside her, tearing her apart little by little.

Helena's pained whine was enough to make the she-elf focus again. Her eldest daughter... her only daughter was still in pain, she needed help! It took her no time to realize that while very little of the 'curse' had actually touched her, it was still doing a lot of damage, and would continue doing so, unless something was done about it.

"Loki!" Tinúviel practically screeched through her pain. "Get her out of here. To safety!"

And as much as the prince hated to leave his wife's side when she was in such a condition, he knew as well as she did that if he did not do something soon, their daughter wouldn't stand a chance. It took no time to decide. He took Helena into his arms and dropped into the shadows beneath them without a word. Even as they went the sorcerer knew he needed to get her to a more spiritual realm, the kind where time didn't pass the same, where it wasn't as relevant. Only then would the effect of the curse stop enough to give them the chance to pull it out of Helena before she was permanently harmed.

They made it to the realm of Helheim with little effort, and while Loki had half a mind to stay and begin helping his daughter right away. Helena herself ordered him away; he needed to stay with her mother, he needed to be there if... deep down the young princess knew there was no 'if' about it, but admitting that she was about to lose her mother, that she had already lost her just hurt so much...

Loki, for his part, got back in Asgard to see what looked like half a dozen healers, Lady Eir and his own mother included, rushing around, trying by all means to save Tinúviel. But it was to no avail. Even with the Queen they could only drain the curse a little at a time, and nowhere near fast enough; and then there was all the blood from her involuntary miscarriage. She was bleeding too much, Loki knew that without need to be told, no individual of any race could be expected to survive such level of trauma.

And in the end Loki was right, nothing could be done, nothing but try and make Tinúviel comfortable in her last moments, it wouldn't be long.

So everyone was sent out of the room. Tinúviel was laid in a bed, where Loki laid beside her, holding her as close as he dared, afraid of hurting her any further. But she did not care anymore. She held onto him with all the strength she had in her failing limbs.

"Helena...?" She croaked.

"Safe." Loki answered quietly. "In Helheim. I will go back... later. I will make sure she's alright. I just... Tinúviel... my love..."

"It's alright my love, I understand." She whispered back at him.

It took a great effort, but she managed to raise her hand to his match's cheek. Who then held her hand against his face, unwilling to let it go, to let her go.

"I'm sorry..." She whispered.

And she was, so, so sorry... she never wanted to let him go... but it wasn't in her power.

"Not your fault." He replied, and she could hear the self-loathing there.

"Not your fault either." She whispered back.

He nodded, though it was obvious he did not believe her. He would always feel that he'd failed her. It would seem that he was never there when she needed him most; and while in the past he'd been lucky, very much so, not this time. He was losing her, and there was nothing he could do.

"If you listen to the wind..." Tinúviel tried to sing, but it was hard, too much pain inside her.

"You don't need to do that." Loki told her softly, pained.

"Yes, I do." She replied slowly, carefully. "I... I don't want y...you to remember me like this w... when I'm gone. So..." She took a deep breath. "So close your eyes a-and just liste...n."

Loki didn't like her resignation, but at the same time knew there was no point in holding onto his denial. There was nothing he wouldn't give her in that moment; so he did as asked and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to bring up the image of her as she'd been when he'd left intent on helping the Aesir with the magik storm, when she'd been so radiant, so absolutely beautiful...

It would be impossible to know where exactly Tinúviel found the strength to truly sing, but she did, even if it was just a few lines. She died as she'd lived, loving and smiling and singing...

"If you listen to the wind you can hear me again  
>Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song<br>High up in the trees as it moves through the leaves  
>Listen to the wind, there's no end to my..."<p>

Her voice was lost then, and with it all of her... and Loki's own heart and soul...

**xXx**

The funeral of Princess Tinúviel, wife of Loki, gathered people from more than half of the realms in Yggdrasil. All of them mourning for a girl that had crossed barriers of space, time, race, realm, tradition... the Queen-candidate who'd given up a throne for love, who'd gone on to prove to all the realms what she was made of, alongside her husband, her match.

Following Asgardian tradition (and her own wishes), Tinúviel was cremated, her ashes scattered on the very edge of the Rainbow Bridge, allowing her earthly remains to reach the stars, just like she'd always wished.

Many things happened that day that no one would ever forget. Like the Valkyrie Lady Ylva, standing in a pale-blue dress and a crimson cloak with the hood down (and therefore the spell), blonde hair arranged with thin, elegant braids (though most of it stayed down), feet bare; and behind her, from the forest, came the howling of a wolf in mourning. Sif, Goddess, of War, for the first time ever in a dress herself, a white dress (for it was elven tradition), with no adornments on her. Both of them wore crowns of dark crimson roses for mourning.

Everyone could notice the absence of the youngest princess of Asgard: Helena. And rumors were running rampant that she was either dead too, or dying. Only a few knew where she was, why, and the reason why she couldn't return yet (no one knew when she might be able to).

Yet the one things that people would remember most would be, without a doubt, the moment when Prince Loki of Asgard drop to his knees before his wife's, his beloved match's pyre and after a wordless cry, began singing, voice full of so much pain everyone could feel it tearing at their hearts, at the core of their very souls, the pain of a love, of a life, of forever, lost...

"Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain  
>I've seen sunny days that I thought they never end<br>I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend  
>But I always thought that I'd see you again..."<p>

That was as far as Loki got before the grief became too much, before the pain made him lose himself, in more ways than most could ever possibly comprehend.

He left the funeral so abruptly, right after the ashes had been scattered, that his closest friends: Sif, Erynion, and his own brother Thor, couldn't help but hurry looking for him. They found him in his garden, or what remained of it, half of it already destroyed to the prince's wild magic.

It was until they were all inside the garden itself that they noticed one more detail: the fact that most of the destruction had been caused by ice... And not only that Loki himself was blue, the clothes on him half frozen, and his eyes were red on black...

Sif's loud exhalation was what finally called the sorcerer's attention to the newcomers' presence. Thor could see a flash of shock and panic in his eyes before it vanished into the void that had settled on his face since the passing of his wife.

"Ready to kill me now, my friend?" Even the sarcasm that should have drowned Loki's words as he said that was absent, nothing but tiredness in his voice.

"Brother!" Thor was horrified at the mere idea.

They had already lost Tinúviel... how could they even think of losing him too?!

"You would actually be doing me a favor, you know?" Loki added, nonplussed.

The sound of the violent contact of flesh on flesh, caused by Sif slapping Loki hard enough to turn his head around, broke through everyone's shock.

"Don't you dare say something so stupid!" Sif practically screamed into Loki's face. "I already lost a friend! Do you want me to lose another?! Helena already lost her mother and baby-sister, and you would take her father from her as well?!"

Not a word was said, though ever so slowly they could all see as Loki's blue skin reverted back to alabaster, his eyes bleeding back to their normal emerald; and once the change was over he collapsed, straight into Sif's arms, heaving sobs shaking his whole body. And Sif held him, as tightly as she could (and downright ignoring the frostbite burn on her hand).

Erynion didn't say a word, he only watched the scene in silence, even as he couldn't help but think that as noble and understandable as Sif's statements might be, she had not yet taken in consideration one key element: the match-bond between Tinúviel and Loki. As surprising as it was that the Aesir (or was it Jotun?) prince hadn't fallen with his beloved, there was just no way the bond would allow him to survive as he was. It was no longer a matter of 'if', but of 'when'; with Tinúviel gone, Loki was as good as dead.

**xXx**

Erynion was right in some ways, yet wrong in others. Loki did not die, not physically at least, but he did lose himself in every way that counted.

It began slowly at first. A hard word here, a violent reaction there, a careless spell elsewhere. It began as responses to what he saw as insults against him and his match (some of which were, while others were nothing but innocent comments), and went from there. From harmless pranks to vicious ones, until there were more people being hurt than there were laughing. And whenever Loki was called on to answer for his actions, his answers were harsh, dark, vitriol coming from his mouth in the same ways love and songs once had. The most noticeable though, was how he never gave a straight answer, always twisting words around in such a way that he ended dealing insult to anyone and everyone, himself included.

The breaking point came when one of the 'pranks' caused a mess in one of the training grounds, a number of aspirants to the royal guard in the healing ward and Fandral with a new scar on the very edge of his hairline (a bit more to the other side and it would have taken his eye). And it all began because Fandral had commented on Helena's scars.

It was the other part of everything. Helena was all Loki had left, as far as the younger prince of Asgard was concerned; and she hadn't been left unaffected by the events of that day. It had taken some time, but eventually, between Loki and his mother they'd managed to extract all the foreign magic that had been hurting the young princess; however, there was no way of taking away the burn-like scars that it had caused, and which covered almost fifty percent of her body. Most were not too noticeable, unless one was paying very close attention; though there were some, like the dark one in one of her hands, and a thick twisted line that covered one cheek, temple and even pulled a little at her mouth, making it as if she were always on the edge of grimacing. Some of her hair had been affected too, and one eye.

Some people couldn't help but comment on it. On how the young lady most had been so sure would be named Goddess of Beauty, was so scarred, her very skin carrying a reminder of the tragedy that broke her family apart. It was such comments that hurt Helena the most; and it was also such comments that brought out Loki's cruelest side. Fandral was really just the latest in a long line of such 'occurrences'.

"You need to let him go..." Erynion said, for the umpteenth time since everything had started.

They were gathered together in that moment, the royal family of Asgard, Sif, Erynion and Thenidiel (who'd recently ascended to the post of second in the coven, and was rumored to be candidate to lead it one day).

"What?!" Thor was livid at the mere idea.

"I know you don't like it." Erynion went on. "And I don't enjoy the idea either, but don't you see? Loki is practically begging you to let him go."

"I'm not killing my brother!" The blonde prince almost roared. "Or letting anyone else do it. I... we already lost Tinúviel and her baby, we're not losing him too!"

"But don't you see?" Erynion insisted. "He's not really living anymore!"

"It's what happens in a match." Thenidiel said quietly. "One cannot live without the other, in an instinctive level, they do not want to. It's like... their souls were connected, always touching each other, and now the princess is gone. Prince Loki's soul keeps reaching for hers, wanting it and her back, but she's not there anymore. The void is slowly taking over... What's he's doing right now... Erynion is right, it's a plea, in many ways, for you to let him go, to let him follow her. And until you do so, it will keep getting worse. Until the day you will have no other option."

"He's going insane." Sif added, in a low, hard voice that showed how much it cost her to even admit that much.

The Queen didn't say anything, she just cried; then again, she knew about matches, probably better than anyone else in the room, she knew the elves, and Sif were all right. Loki could not exist without his beloved, it simply wasn't possible; and the longer they took to accept it, the more her son would hurt. And yet, even as she admitted that to herself, Frigg just couldn't bring herself to let him go. He was her son, how could she ever say goodbye to him?

Helena did not say a word. She knew her parents well. They'd both told her everything about matches, its risks and wonders. It had been in preparation, as they'd been closed to reaching the century mark in their union, and once they had their bond would have finished settling, making it so they were forever one soul in two bodies; where one went the other would be able to do nothing but follow. In life and death... If she was honest with herself, the princess had just been waiting for that moment. She knew how much her father hurt, it was there in his eyes, whenever he looked at the stars, at the remains of his garden (no one had dared do anything to help restore it just yet), and, most hurtful of all, whenever he looked at her.

"So, are we doing this now then?" A low voice with an edge on it suddenly spoke.

Everyone turned abruptly to find none other than Loki himself standing in a corner of the room. They hadn't been expecting that.

"Should I offer you one of my own blades or would you rather use your own?" The raven-haired prince drawled, voice filled with sarcasm, yet his eyes completely devoid of anything.

"We're not killing you!" Thor practically roared his denial. "You're not dying brother!"

"Don't you get it?!" Loki fixed his dead-looking eyes on the blonde. "It's what I want! I want you to kill me! Release me from this life, from the torment that is living without my Tinúviel, without my match!"

"No, my son..."

No one was expecting those words to come from the mouth of Odin Allfather himself, or the moment when Loki dropped to the marble floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

"What did you do, father?!" Thor cried out even as he rushed to his brother's side.

"I'm going to save my son." Odin stated even as he rose from his throne.

"How?" Erynion had a feeling he really wasn't going to like the answer.

"By making him forget what's hurting him." Odin answered simply.

"What?!" The answer was the same from almost everyone.

"You cannot do that!" Erynion's enraged voice rose above everyone else's. "You cannot make him forget his match! Doing that... it would be like killing her all over again!"

Several people in the room grimaced at that, and even Odin seemed taken aback for a moment, though it was not enough to make him change his mind.

"Him not remembering won't stop others from saying things..." Sif began, trying to make her King see reason.

"Then I shall make everyone forget!" Odin announced authoritatively.

The Ljósálfar were left speechless at that declaration.

More things were probably said, arguments made, but they were all irrelevant in the end. Odin Allfather had made up his mind, and nothing would make him change it. In his mind, he'd already lost nearly half of his family, and he wasn't losing anyone else, especially not his son...

And so it happened that Loki Odinson, and everyone else in Asgard forgot that the prince had ever had a wife; all they remembered of Lady Tinúviel was that she'd been an elven princess with the most beautiful voice in all the realms...

Erynion and Thenidiel were completely indignant and infuriated by the Asgardian King's decision and refused to have anything to do with it; which, in turn, meant they would have little to do with the Realm Eternal for many years yet.

Helena, for her part, the spell did not work on her, her magic wouldn't allow it. She stayed close to her father for a while; until the pain of seeing the odd void fill his eyes whenever he looked at her became too much, then she chose to go. She left all behind, her old life, old dresses (she only wore black, her own way of mourning the mother and sister she'd lost to death, and the father that still lived but was just as lost, to her and himself both), even her old name for she was no light, not anymore, no longer Helena... Instead she was Lady Hel, Goddess of Grief. She returned to Helheim, where her power surpassed that of anyone else in the realm. It took some time but eventually she managed to put order to the place, an order like there had never been before; and it was that which earned her the title of Queen Hel, of Helheim.

And Loki moved on, as the years went on, always feeling an emptiness deep in his heart and soul, yet never knowing why... until the day he carelessly stepped out of the Shadow Plane and into Midgard, into a garden already occupied, by a precocious child with auburn hair, hazel eyes and a fascination with songbirds...

**xXx xXx xXx**

Thin rays of sunlight managed to slip inside the otherwise dark bedroom in between the thick drapes that covered the crystal doors leading to the wide balcony, its light giving shades of dark-gold, liquid honey and firey red to the dark-auburn hair of the woman laying on the bed, curled up tightly into the chest of the man beside her, whose own raven-black hair almost sparkled under the rays of the same son.

Ever so slowly the two woke up, a part of their minds still half lost to the images they'd been going through during the night, the memories of a life long ago lived... and forgotten.

"A'maelamin..." Loki whispered huskily, reaching a hand to his beloved's face.

"Fintalëharyon (trick-prince)..." She replied in a whisper.

The nicknames, both new and old depending on how one saw things, helped settle something inside each of them; as they laid quietly in their bed, allowing their minds to finish waking up, their senses to return them to the current time: where she was no longer the elven-born princess Tinúviel, but the human-born Lady Nightingale (which, in the end, amounted to the same thing); and he... he was still Loki, still a prince of Asgard, and still married to his perfect match and the love of his existence.

So much had happened since she'd last been Tinúviel, since the tragic loss of her life, and Loki's own loss in many ways... but she'd returned, to life and to him; and regardless of how hard things might have gotten at times, they were together, alive and happy, nothing could ever be more important than that.

"Hákon!" Was the next word to leave the reincarnated princess's lips as she sat up quick enough she almost dropped back, dizzy.

"Easy, love..." Loki sat up beside her, holding his wife until the dizziness subsided. "He's alright..." He shifted as he became aware of something else. "Our daughter is here..."

His statement made her react without her being fully conscious of it. The woman had barely enough thought to pull the dressing-gown over her thin nightclothes before leaving the bedroom, feet bare and with no thought for the quite cold floor beneath her (not that it affected her really, or that she truly noticed it). She didn't even pay any attention to her husband, hurrying after her; all thoughts on one single person:

And there she was: lithe figure, porcelain skin unblemished but for the scars consequence of the same curse that had taken her life so many years before, hair black like a raven's wing in perfect curls, cascading down her back; blue-green eyes, shadowed by long-standing pain, though she still smiled at the kid (black hair, blue eyes) sitting on her lap, playing a simple but seemingly very entertaining game with their hands...

"Helena..." The reincarnated princess breathed out the moment her eyes laid on her.

The black-haired woman's head raised abruptly, green eyes meeting hazel ones. For a second, not a word was spoken. Hákon called to the older woman, to his Mama, but it would be impossible to know if any of them heard him; though Loki certainly approached, lifting the boy into his arms before he could interrupt the moment; one he knew was completely needed by the two most important women in his life. Their whole attention was on each other, even without a single word being said, without any of them moving at all; as if a mere look were enough to say everything... or maybe Nightingale was just taking her daughter in, truly for the first time in so long... Even if the two had seen each other relatively recently, Hel hadn't been Nightingale's daughter back then, not until right then.

"Mama..." Hel murmured, before doing a double-take. "Did you just say...?"

"Helena..." Nightingale repeated, switching to elvish as she added: "Cala amin (My light)..."

"Nana!" The younger-but-older-looking woman cried out before throwing herself at her mom.

Both ended up sprawled on the floor, though neither of them truly minded; in that moment they were simply too happy to be with each other, to truly be embracing each other again to care about such details.

Conversation flowed, covering everything from the realization that Hel, Helena, had never forgotten the truth about her mom, that she'd known (or at least very strongly suspected) what was going on from the first time Loki had gone to Helheim looking for his daughter's assistance on saving his dear friend, Nightingale (after all, from the very start, Nightingale and Tinúviel meant the same, were the same).

Loki found great comfort in knowing that he hadn't always been a lousy father, and his daughter didn't blame him for the mistakes he'd made the last (too many) years. And then there was Nightingale's realization that Helena wasn't just her adopted daughter, but truly her daughter, hers in every way that mattered; just like Loki was her husband, her perfect love, in every time, every realm, every life...

The little family shared a very happy breakfast and after taking some time to themselves, decided it was time to 'face the music' so-to-speak. Nightingale put on the new dress her husband had had done for her: dark lavender gauzy fabric with cut-open short sleeves and a thick pale pink-lilac belt a silky semi-translucent wrap was wound around her back and arms; along with that were golden sandals and her only pieces of jewelry were the earrings, pendant, wedding-ring and tiara, same as always; auburn curls down, just like her match preferred (to be able to run his fingers through them). Loki made his own stand by putting aside his more common attire of green silk and black leather; and still dressing in the same fashion he had when he was much younger, back during the days of his marriage to Tinúviel, when he'd been happiest: a forest green linen tunic, black breeches, long leather open-vest and black riding boots; his long-ish hair carefully brushed but lose. Helena's choices were telling as well. Her choice was neither for the blue or green gowns she'd favored in her youth, nor the black she'd been wearing for more than a hundred years, her own way of mourning, and part of what hd earned her the title of Goddess of Grief. Her choice of dress was an off-white and silver silk piece, floor-length, with a square-neckline and long, wide illusion sleeves and silver low-heels. Finally, Hákon was dressed in his favorite dark-brown pants, sea-green shirt with the sleeves rolled up and brown small boots. He looked quite dashing, and there was not a doubt in anyone's mind that he would be quite a dashing man when he grew up.

The moment the little family set foot in Asgard again, it was like entering a whole new Realm Eternal. At first Nightingale thought it was just her, that gaining so many years worth of memories (though many of them were still rearranging themselves in her mind, slowly) was affecting her perception of things; and then Heimdall went to greet them.

"Princess Tinúviel..." He murmured, bowing his head respectfully at her.

"Nightingale is still just fine, Heimdall." The reincarnated princess assured him, reminding the Gatekeeper of the odd friendship they'd struck in the years since her arrival to Asgard after her (second) death. "It means the same, and it's still me."

"Of course, princess Nightingale." He nodded, still stoic (though he relaxed minutely).

"Ah... is Er... Lord Erynion still here?" She hesitated just a second before asking.

"Yes, my lady." Heimdall nodded. "The Queen convinced him to stay one more day."

"She probably knew we would be coming." Loki shrugged behind her, they both knew enough of Lady Frigg's precognitive abilities.

"Indeed, my lord." The Gatekeeper agreed.

The second Asgardian prince shook his head at that but didn't say anything, instead he just helped his wife and children get on the horses. He remained just as silent as they rode down the Rainbow Bridge and through Asgard until one too many Aesir bowed to him (to all of them) as they rode past... he lost it shortly before they reached the palace.

"What in the abyss is wrong with these people?!" He snapped, mindfully keeping hold on his son, sitting before him. "They've hated me for the better part of the last millennia... and suddenly everyone's looking at me like... like... like I'm Thor!"

"Nonsense." His match snorted, unable to help herself. "They're not looking at you like you're anyone but yourself, my love. They're just finally seeing you..."

"When the huge spell was cast all those years ago, it wasn't just you that forgot, Ada." Helena explained. "Everyone in Asgard did. It was necessary to keep you safe. Only, it seems that forgetting all about Nana also meant forgetting why you did certain things... including those you did while driven by pain and grief..."

"Everyone thought I was just crazy, or evil..." Loki mumbled, mostly to himself.

"They didn't understand anymore." Helena tried to make him understand.

"And now they suddenly do?" He still wasn't buying it.

"I think that the potion you said Grandma gave you woke more than just your memories and Nana's..." The young Queen of Helheim offered, thoughtful.

"You think everyone else remembers now too..." Nightingale breathed out in wonder.

The prospect left the former she-elf absolutely breathless; even as her mind fought to deal with the implications of that. The possibility of getting back even more of her old life, not only her husband and daughter but the rest of their family, her dearest friends, like Sif and...

"Does that mean...?" Her throat seemed to close at the mere thought in her head. "Erynion...?"

"He's never forgotten Nana, none of the Ljósálfar ever did." Her daughter said quietly. "They never agreed with Grandfather's decision to use that spell... Wanted nothing to do with it. It's why Asgard's relations with Alfheim have been so delicate in the last nine centuries."

It was regretful, truly, but maybe her return (truly, after having recovered her memories) would help on that front. In any case, the Ljósálfar would no longer believe her Maverick to be an Oahtbreaker, or a Betrayer, after all, he wasn't really cheating o her, she was his wife, his match, had always been.

They talked some more, mainly about the people they were hoping to see again, like Erynion and Sif, their dearest friends. Nightingale couldn't help but regret the fact that her beloved hadn't only lost her and their unborn child, after tragedy struck but, one way or another, he'd lost his friends too. Ending up so terribly alone for the longest time. At least they'd gotten another chance...

And just like that Skye's words rang inside her head:

"_...you got another chance... like one lifetime wasn't enough... so you got another one..." _

Another chance indeed, and not just for the two of them, but for all. Family, friends, love...

When the little family first stepped into the palace, not a word was spoken, everyone present just looking at each other in tense silence until... motion. It was Sif who moved, in a matter of instants she was in Loki's arms, holding him tightly before anyone could say a word.

"You idiot!" She shrieked at him a second later, smacking him in the back of the head.

"Good to see you too Sif..." The trickster quipped with a smirk.

"It feels like its been so long, yet I saw you just a fortnight ago..." The raven-haired goddess of war mumbled, finally turning to look at the reincarnated princess.

"Imagine how we feel." Nightingale deadpanned.

Were anyone to ask the reincarnated she-elf she would tell them, quite honestly, that her head was still spinning. She was also quite sure that were she still human she'd have gone crazy already; after all, how could a human ever deal with memories of two separate lifetimes; and that was without taking in consideration everything that had happened to her in the hundred-twenty-something years she'd lived... the horrible way in which she'd died... and even what her beloved had done afterwards. She didn't actually know much of that, only in very general terms, but she knew it had been bad; and would have been even worse if the Allfather hadn't done what he did, in the end. So while most probably didn't like it, and might not understand it, Nightingale was, in a way, thankful for the choices the King of Asgard had made.

"You know." Sif suddenly. "I do like my black hair... even if I've been unfairly harsh to you regarding it... I cannot believe I forgot why it ever came to be."

"A great many things were forgotten." Loki agreed. "By all of us."

It was amazing truly, for two such close friends like them, to think how far apart they'd become, to the point of being downright cruel to one another at times. And yet, once Nightingale had been in the picture, even before the return of the memories, they'd fallen straight back into the old ways, the old friendship.

A minute or two passed, with everyone just basking in each other's presence and in the returned memories. Most were beginning to believe Nightingale would never let go of her family again (her hands entwined with those of her husband and daughter), until her eyes landed on the figure standing in the far en of the room, half hidden behind a column; long black hair, deep blue eyes and elegant gray elven robes... she knew instantly who he was, and the part of her consciousness that had woken along with the memories of the life as Tinúviel pushed her into finally letting go of two of her loved ones to run and throw herself into the arms of the first man she'd ever called brother (long before ever meeting Thor).

"Toron (Brother)!" She cried out in obvious delight, embracing him as tightly as she could.

"Tinúviel..." He breathed out, holding her just as tight. "Seler amin (sister mine)..."

"Princess..." He heard another voice, right behind him.

Blonde, light-blue eyed, in her usual white, it took the reincarnated but a second to recognize Thenidiel. And as their eyes met, more memories of the she-elf filled her conscious mind: a spell-weaver, back then Lady Santiel's apprentice, though always meant to be the successor as leader of the coven... just as she was always meant to be Erynion's match. No words needed to be said there, Nightingale was happy for them and Thenidiel knew it. They truly deserved each other. And the spell-weaver had waited long enough for the Lord Protector to see her. A part of the reincarnated princess was sad she hadn't been there to see it, to be a witness at their bonding; another could only be happy they had gotten their chance, no matter how or when it had happened. Thenidiel had waited long enough for her oblivious brother to go beyond duty and tradition and truly see her.

"Tinúviel..." Another called then.

It was Odin, staring at the human-born princess like he'd never seen her before; and maybe that's what it felt like for him; for it hadn't only been others' memories that his choice and spell had taken, but even his own. Once again, memories rushed through her mind: The King's face the first time Loki had introduced her to his parents, the revelation of Loki's heritage, the Allfather's plan and how close it came to ruining them all... the day of their wedding.

She remembered the wedding songs, the beautiful piece her groom had sung, just for her, one of few times anyone had heard him sing (even Tinúviel herself). Thinking of that suddenly gave Nightingale a whole new understanding of Odin's attitude, of why he'd been so rattled when she'd sung that very song during the celebration for the victory against the Marauders. It had never been that the Aesir King hated her, or that he did not care... no, truth was he did care, so, so much... and most of the time he did not know how to show it (Understandable considering he'd had no one to show him how).

And the look of muted shock the man had given her after what she'd said in defense of Thor's and Jane's relationship; she could hardly believe that she'd used almost exactly the same words as when she'd been defending her own relationship with her match.

"Atar..." She addressed him by the most archaic form of 'Father' in elvish, just like she had in the past. "I am back..."

"The world brightens by your return, mine daughter." He nodded, joy in his eyes like no one had ever seen before, and then he turned to Loki and it only grew. "My son..."

Once again, the young princess allowed instincts to rule her as she rushed to her father-in-law and, ignoring all protocol, threw herself into his arms. The greater surprise for what few guards remained in the room wasn't that though (everyone had seen Nightingale doing seemingly crazy things enough times to no longer react to it), no, it was the moment Odin's expression softened into a soft, tender smile, at the same time his own arms wrapped around the small woman's form, embracing her tightly.

"My daughter..." He whispered into her hair. "My beautiful daughter."

People sometimes forgot the fact that Odin hadn't had any daughters, only sons... and as many doubts as he might have expressed regarding the match, he had truly loved Tinúviel like his own child. His doubts had never been about her as a person, or the love she and Loki shared; but Odin had never forgotten the Shadow-Walker, the absolute sadness in his eyes and in his every move, but mainly, the terrible emptiness in his eyes. It was a look he'd never wanted to see in the son of his heart. The son of his enemy, whom he'd gone against all his education and basic instincts to take in, and he'd never regretted it.

"I know why you did what you did, Atar..." The reincarnated princess whispered quietly into his ear. "You protected him when he couldn't protect himself, saved him even from himself. You gave him the means to hold on, gave me the chance to find him again... thank you..."

She knew he hadn't done it for her, no, he hadn't even known she would be coming back; he had not even done it for his wife, for as much as she might love Loki as well (and there was no doubt how much she loved him) she'd accepted the fact that he needed to do; no, all the things Odin had done, good and bad, he'd done out of his own love for Loki.

And maybe some things had gone very wrong because of that. Loki had forgotten the truth of his origins, the plan, and on the most basic level, how proud his father was of him, how much he was loved... that, among other things, had been behind the mess that had been Thor's near-coronation, followed by the mess in Jotunheim and everything else. But in the end they had been just honest mistakes, never intended to hurt Loki, or anyone else.

"Thank you..." She repeated.

"Thank you." The King said in return. "For coming back. For making our family whole again."

Nightingale smiled, kissing her father-in-law's cheek once before letting go of him, returning to her husband and children.

Jane Foster was the only one who probably didn't have the slightest idea of what was going on around her, but she would find out, eventually. In the meantime, she was just happy seeing all the people she cared about smiling once again.

**xXx**

The family talked about a great many things during that afternoon, though a great many more remained unsaid. There would be time. Nightingale knew it would take a while for all the memories of her life as Tinúviel to fit correctly inside her head, time she would have to learn more about the different parts of it.

A clear example was when she got the chance to talk with Erynion and Thenidiel about Hákon's mother. After all, Merenwen had been a princess, part of the most recent generation in Alfheim, and Elanor one of her handmaidens. The truest surprise was finding out Merenwen had hailed from Jewel Forest, and she had ancestors in common with Tinúviel (distant, but still).

There would be time to talk about other things. The most important part of all, the reconciliation among the members of their family, was done. Odin, Loki and Thor, all with their recently recovered memories, sat down and talked about the things that had happened in the last few years, and about the things that had happened over nine hundred years prior. Putting behind all the bad feelings that had been weighing them down for what seemed forever.

The funniest moment was when a small group of the Elders entered the Throne Room, wanting to know what was going on, why the Council session for that day had been cancelled without explanation, and the first thing they all saw was Princess Nightingale sitting practically on her husband's lap and being quite tender with him.

"Princess, have some sense of propriety!" A councilwoman chastised her sharply.

No one really expected the human-born princess to get flushed, embarrassed or anything; though the elders probably at least expected her to get off Loki's lap. She did none of that. Instead she settled more comfortably where she was (very purposefully, sending a private smirk to her match when hearing the sharp intake of breath from the councilwoman), before turning over her shoulder to look at her.

"With all due respect councilwoman..." Which, in that tone, meant none at all. "You are not the boss of me. You cannot command me, so you would do well to stop trying. Save your breath. This is my match, whom I love with everything I am, and if you don't like seeing me express that love, you can very well turn away."

"You used to be a lot more respectful, young-one." A male elder commented gruffly.

Nightingale's eyebrow arched elegantly (a gesture some began to realize came from her past life); she just focused on the fact that at least that Elder had known her as Tinúviel, and he'd probably just remembered that fact.

"I used to be a great many things, Elder." She told him calmly, though a bit more respectful than how she'd spoken to the woman. "Then I died..." She shook her head, sending love down her bond to her beloved to stave off the memory of his pain. "The stars have given me the greatest blessing with this second chance. So I hope you'll forgive me if I rather not waste it worrying about what might be or might not be proper."

To everyone's surprise, the Elder didn't seem angry at her words or tone, he didn't even look upset at all; he actually chuckled, very lightly, but still.

"Lord Frerin!" The councilwoman called, scandalized by his reaction. "You cannot tell me you find this funny. That impudent child..."

"That is Lady Nightingale, and she's your princess, Lady Vigdis, you would do well to remember that." The Elder chastised her. "She's also the reincarnation of Princess Tinúviel, from Alfheim and Asgard, a blessed healer and the Goddess of Compassion... and now Devotion as well."

The female elder, Lady Vigdis, could only stare in shock at her colleague, and the royal couple in turn, evidently having no words to express herself.

"My thanks, Lord Frerin." Loki nodded at the man, showing a level of respect he rarely did.

"It's good to see you back to who you used to be, Prince Loki... who you were always meant to be." The Elder added, before turning back to the princess. "I commend you for choosing to stand your ground, princess. I believe I would be the same if I got the chance to have my Deana back. If I had the chance to hold her in my arms again, I would hold nothing back..."

No one knew any Deana, but some instinctively realized he spoke about his wife, lost to him so long before neither of the young royals present had ever known her.

"Stars willing, one day you will get that chance." Nightingale told him kindly.

She truly believed that, for if she'd had the chance, why shouldn't everyone else? The stars (the spirits, God, a Higher Power, however one chose to see it) had been kind enough to her, to her family; why shouldn't others be as fortunate? She truly believed they would be, sooner or later. Just as she chose to believe that the Shadow Walker from the Allfather's story and his match had been reborn, found their peace, and each other; that one day Kontar and Sharifa too would get another chance, for a life together, a better one that the last one. She believed with all her heart that every person, in every realm, had the potential for perfect happiness, they just needed to fight for it. Just like she had. No matter how many difficulties came, how many dangers, her family was her perfect happiness, and they always would be.

The greatest thing, however, wasn't really about Loki and Nightingale; no. It was about Thor, and Jane Foster.

No one was expecting the moment when Odin turned away from his youngest son and his match, to face his oldest, and his own chosen intended.

"You claim to love her?" He asked with no preamble.

"I do, Father, like I've never loved another, like I shall never love again." Thor answered, full of sincerity and passion, a hand on Jane's own.

"And what about you, Jane Foster?" Odin asked next, turning to her.

Jane almost stepped back, almost, but in the last moment she managed to hold herself in place. She realized that there was a chance, one like she hadn't been expecting; none of them actually expected Odin to give her the opportunity to state her intentions, to earn herself a place. But maybe everything that had happened with Loki and Nightingale (which she still only half understood, a mess of past lives, death and reincarnation which was almost enough to give her a headache, and it did not even involve her!); maybe that was enough to make him turn kinder eyes upon her. After all, if one of his sons had done well enough with a human-born wife, why shouldn't his other do just as well?

"I..." For a moment Jane seemed to not know what to say, at all, until she just closed her eyes and let her heart speak for her (rather than her head). "I am a woman of science, Allfather. I do not consider myself very good when it comes to matters of the heart. In all my life I have loved exactly three men. The first was my father, who died when I was still very young, not quite a teenager yet; then there was a man who became like a second father to me, and whom even to this day I still care greatly for: Erik Selvig... your children know him." She made a pause before adding. "There was a time, before I met your oldest son, that I believed myself to be in love with a man. A doctor called Daniel Blake. I believed him to be a good man, I believed that he loved me, and for that I nearly married him."

"Did you not love him?" Sif had noticed something odd about Jane's choice of words.

"I cared about him." Jane said with some hesitation. "And... I think I was too afraid of ending up alone, as the years passed. There are not many women in my field of study, which makes it hard. And beyond the gender, the specific phenomenons I chose to study, the things I believed to be true, when I had not enough proof of anything... it made things harder. Made colleagues doubt me, even ridicule me. But I refused to back down, no matter how hard things got." She paused briefly. "Daniel came into my life at a point when I was touching bottom. I was near the end of my rope, having no idea how to prove what I knew to be right, I was beginning to fear I would be all alone, for the rest of my life. He was kind, charming and interested in me... I thought that was love. Or if not love, I at least thought it would be enough. Which is why I was considering it when he proposed to me."

"You were going to marry him?" Thor was in shocked at that.

"I did not love him." Jane hurried to clarify. "But, like I said, I was afraid of being alone, and I thought caring for him, feeling comfortable with him, would be enough."

"You were going to settle." Nightingale realized.

"Why didn't you marry him then?" Sif answered, noticing once again that things were missing.

"Because the day I went looking for him at the hospital where he worked, to surprise him and tell him my answer, I found him screwing one of the nurses in the break room." Jane deadpanned.

The language was a bit more crude than she usually preferred; but the mere memory of that event still angered her. Still, that was enough to make Thor react as he hurried to embrace his beloved.

"The bastard actually had the gall to say it was all my fault!" In the safety of Thor's arms Jane finally dared let it all out, like she never had before. "He said I was cold, and plain... he made it sound like he was doing me a favor by marrying me!"

Thor growled under his breath at that, and he wasn't the only one.

"You sent him away, I hope." Loki muttered, angered for his would-be-sister.

"I did." Jane nodded. "Though he kept going back, why he was so insistent, I don't know. He dropped by my trailer ever other week or so for months... Darcy actually chased him away a couple of times, threatening him with her taser when he got too insistent..."

Loki and Nightingale smirked in unison, that was Darcy! (Which also reminded them they needed to take care of things on that front... and that Thor was probably going to blow a gasket when he learnt the Son of Coul wasn't really dead...)

"Why not tell him not to come back?" Erynion inquired, confused.

"I..." Jane actually flushed, eyes to the ground as she admitted the truth. "I was too afraid of ending up alone, like he said I would. I didn't dare send him away for good, kept telling myself we might still make things work..."

"But you did not love him!" Sif did not understand.

"I did not." Jane nodded. "But I did not know if anything such as love, the love of a match, of lovers, actually existed. Like I said before, I am a woman of science, most of us don't really believe in things such as love..."

That left everyone completely speechless.

"What happened then?" Loki asked, intrigued.

"I was chasing storms one night when a man fell from the sky." Jane quipped with a lopsided grin, turning sly eyes at her beloved. "The next time Daniel visited I told him that if he returned one more time I would call the police."

For several seconds no one said a word, until Nightingale realized something.

"This happened right after Thor had left, once he recovered his powers, right?" She wanted to clarify first.

"Yes, that's correct." Jane nodded, wondering where the girl was taking it.

"You sent him away when there was no guarantee that Thor would ever return." Nightingale explained, to the others as much as to Jane herself. "You couldn't have known if you would ever have a chance to be together..."

"No." Jane nodded just slightly. "But I knew I loved him, and that was enough." He turned to look at her intended with eyes full of so much love the blonde prince of Asgard was breathless. "I knew love was true, and I loved him. Nothing Daniel could have offered me would ever compare. Nothing anyone else could have offered me would. Even if all I ever had was the memory of those few days, of that one kiss... I preferred it over settling down for anything else."

"You will never settle down, my Jane." Thor assured her, kissing her briefly but passionately. "Never. I will love you forever."

"I know." She nodded at him. "As I will love you." She turned back to the King then. "So you see, your Majesty. I know what it is to be with someone for the wrong reasons. And I know I'm with Thor for the right ones. I love your son, with everything I am, with an intensity I didn't believe myself capable of, that I didn't even believe existed, until I knew him. And even if all we'd ever had, was that short time, years ago, I wouldn't have regretted it..."

For a few seconds there was nothing but silence, and then...

"You will have more than just a few days." Odin announced then. "You both will." His face softened once again. "You have my blessing, Jane Foster, though you didn't really ask for it. You shall be my son's bride, and Asgard will take you as one of its own." His voice rose with power and authority as he added. "Welcome Jane Foster, Goddess of Science..."

Jane was left speechless, while Thor belatedly smiled, and then began spinning around, Jane in his arms as he laughed uproariously. Loki and Nightingale cheered, as delighted by the unexpected developments as their own brother. Those two truly deserved their happiness.

**xXx**

And so the afternoon gave way to night. Another feast, and there was much to celebrate: the return of one beloved princess, the reaffirmation of one love, a new chapter to an old legend... and the new (now official) betrothal, of Asgard's first prince and heir to the throne, to another human-born lady, and future goddess (she would only partake on Idunn's apples once the wedding had taken place).

And with a night of celebration eventually came, of course, much dancing, music, and song... By that point there was really no need for an introduction, everyone knew who the singing-princess was, and when the new song began, no one had any trouble guessing what and who she sung for:

"A thousand years, a thousand more,  
>A thousand times a million doors to eternity.<br>I may have lived a thousand lives, a thousand times  
>An endless turning stairway climbs to a tower of souls.<br>If it takes another thousand years, a thousand wars,  
>The towers rise to numberless floors in space.<br>I could shed another million tears, a million breaths,  
>A million names but only one truth to face..."<p>

Nightingale knew that she and Loki weren't done with the reunions just yet, there were others that would need to take place eventually. The two of them needed to go see their adopted children: Sleipnir, Jormungandr, Fenrir, and then there was Ylva... to think that their daughter-in-law had been protecting her for over a year, and neither of them had been aware of their own connection. Hopefully they would get a chance to reclaim all that in the near future. Maybe if she caught the Allfather in enough of a good mood some day in the near future she (and Loki) might be able to convince him to release Fenrir once and for all; it had been a long time since the mess with Lady Idunn had taken place, and he and Ylva deserved to have a chance at new a life, and a family...

"A million roads, a million fears,  
>A million suns, ten million years of uncertainty.<br>I could speak a million lies, a million songs,  
>A million rights, a million wrongs in this balance of time.<br>But if there was a single truth, a single light,  
>A single thought, a singular touch of grace.<br>Following this single point, this single flame,  
>The single haunted memory of your face."<p>

There was much that would need to be done. The royals and nobles of Asgard knew that Lady Nightingale and Princess Tinúviel were one and the same, and it was very likely that the rest of the Aesir, even those who hadn't met her all those years before, would know by the next day. But it wasn't only about them. Eventually other realms would need to be told, it might help foster better relationships, especially with the recent end of the conflict against the Marauders.

"I still love you...  
>I still want you...<br>A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves  
>Like galaxies in my head."<p>

And then there was Jotunheim. There had once been plans to make things better with the realm of the Eternal Winter... and with Laufey and Byleistr gone, and Helblindi on the throne maybe such a thing was possible. There was already a bond between Loki and his match, and the Jotun King, one that went beyond the two males sharing the same father, and it was in the little boy who called the to young royals Mama and Papa (even though a part of him still remembered they hadn't always been such).

Helblindi was nothing like Laufey or like Byleistr, he actually sought peace rather than war (as he himself had proven once in a tense conversation/argument with Nightingale herself). Maybe that would help, and they would be able to push through the thick of the Allfather's original plan, without Loki having to actually be the one to sit in the throne (he had no want for it, really).

"I may be numberless, I may be innocent,  
>I may know many things, I may be ignorant,<br>Or I could ride with kings and conquer many lands,  
>Or win this world at cards and let it slip my hands.<br>I could be cannon food, destroyed a thousand times,  
>Reborn as fortune's child to judge another's crimes,<br>Or wear this pilgrim's cloak, or be a common thief.  
>I've kept this single faith, I have but one belief."<p>

Peace in Asgard, peace with other realms, maybe even in Midgard itself; because the reincarnated princess and her match still thought highly of the mortal realm, not just for the memory of their friends, or Nightingale's human life... but for all the friends they had made, all they both had seen and experienced there. All the family (of blood and vow) that still was there: like Aunt Kathryn, Darcy, the Son of Coul, Gwen, Peter, the rest of the Avengers and their own loved ones...

"I still love you...  
>I still want you...<br>A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves  
>Like galaxies in my head.<br>On and on the mysteries unwind themselves  
>Eternities still unsaid<br>'Til you love me..."

For a thousand years the two of them had loved each other (regardless of names, positions, races or realms), through time and space, through life and death, on and on; theirs was an endless love; and they would continue loving each other, until the last star fell from the sky.

* * *

><p>TRIGGER WARNINGS: Violence, death, graphic injuries and miscarriage.<p>

You know, I could have actually ended the series here (aside from the AUs, that is). As much drama as this was to write (and stars! This chapter was way more drama than I ever intended to write!). I think it would have been the perfect closure, everyone coming full-circle. Loki and his match together again, the family reconciled; and we go one step further by Thor finding his own match... but there's Captain America, and my muse won't shop up about him (and the Winter Soldier, and the mess that became SHIELD), she insists it's there turn so... (you get the idea what we're getting into in the next part... that and a number of crossovers... and talking about those, you're still in time to guess those, my offer from last chapter still stands).

Now on to some clarifications: The endearments the midgardians use are egyptian ones, from a website, I think they're in Arabic (not quite sure on that one). For those wondering what happened to Lorelei, she was eventually found by Sif, Ylva and their team of Valkyries and sent back to prison (this time in the dungeons of the palace) with the device that blocked her voice. Also, some might not understand why Loki could save Helena taking her to Helheim and not Tinúviel... keep in mind that the degree in which the curse affected each was very different. Also, Helena had magic of her own to somewhat protect her from the onslaught, Tinúviel did not.

The character of Gorsimi is based on Abby Miller, the girl from the Elektra movie (so you can picture her better), only sort of an ancient-times version of her (and it most definitely is not the real/movie Abby).

Regarding Tinúviel's death and the whole deal with the magik storm... in my head, her death is the reason why Aesir hate and fear magik storms so much in the present; and their origins (high-level magic) as well. They forgot Tinúviel was ever their princess, and how exactly she died... but the fear of the magik storms remained. It was even made worse, in a way, because they feared, but did not remember the reason why; which made the fear instinctual (sort of like a phobia, I think, except it encompassed practically every inhabitant of Asgard).

On that same note goes Odin's rejection of Nightingale, and then Jane as well. It's not that he has anything specific against either of them. And it is about being human, but not because they think humans less, it's that they're mortal, and as such they'll die; and while there was a lot he didn't really remember, he knew he wouldn't be able to take seeing his sons suffer like that (With Nightingale eventually he just gave up... and the fact that she had already died and was there meant the risk wasn't as great with her).

Jane's and Thor's scene... well, it wasn't really planned. When I first wrote it I was all "This doesn't really fit here...", then my mother said "If you wrote it there, it's because it fits there." And then I realized that the whole thing with Jane and Thor and Odin really did need to happen before the next part... which meant that if I didn't write it here, I wasn't writing it at all... so I guess that makes my mother right, again (it happens often). Anyway, I hope you really enjoyed the scene. While I'll probably never write a fic dedicated to those two, I truly like that pairing.

Now, on future plans: First of all, AUs! We're getting a number of those (could be as few as four and as many as... I honestly don't know, it depends on my muse and whether anyone wants to offer ideas, suggestions, or even make requests). I will be taking four weeks off (to finish writing the Hobbit series I'm currently working on, take a break from this -I'm tired, honestly-, and hopefully finish translating my original novel from Spanish to English -so I will be able to post in both languages-). I hope to finish writing the AUs faster than I'll actually begin to post them (in order to get to work on the third part, and post the chapters of that one faster). Like I've said before, there will be crossovers, the ones that have been used already in this verse (and the AUs) and maybe more (though not as many as Menel, I promise, that one was too much even for me); your suggestions are welcomed on that front too... as well as your guesses on the one I implied throughout this fic.

Now, this note is way too long already, so I'll finish and be done with it. I truly hope you enjoyed this fic. Please don't forget your reviews, I truly love reading your opinions (what you liked, what you didn't, what you might want to read next). And to the one who asked for it, I promise more Helblindi in the future!

So, that's that. Thank you for reading and see ya around!


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